


Out Of Control

by freckledandspectacled



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Due to Mind Altering Substances, Emotional Manipulation, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Needles, Past Child Abuse, Psychopaths In Love, Tetch Virus, Virus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: Edward is infected with the Tetch virus, which reveals his hidden desires. (Takes place during the season finale.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to angelsandbrowncoats for being the final push in my posting this. This fic has been finished for over a month but I couldn't bring myself to post it. It will be 22k total, posted in five chapters. I'll update every four or five days. I will also tag any warnings as they come and list ones which are relevant to the specific chapter in the chapter notes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward and Oswald have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is safe for work and 4k.

“You’re infected,” Jervis trills, “How wonderful!”

Oswald turns to look at Jim, watching as the stark veins in his face and the darkness in his eyes recede. He tries to move farther away, fearful of his ‘old friend’, but Jim’s grip is unshakable.

“Two of a kind!” Jervis continues, turning to smile up at Edward. Oswald’s attention had been diverted from him— due to his concern for Jim’s increasing lapses in control –-but he looks at Edward now. He’s… the same, really. Not deranged or foaming at the mouth, eyes black and face contorted like most of the other infected he’s seen. Suddenly, Jervis’ words seem to register with the other man. Edward shoves his gun under the Hatter’s chin, eyes flashing dark while the capillaries around the sockets seem to expand.

“I told you not to speak,” Edward hisses. “Not. Another. Word.” Oswald watches his eyes clear, the lines on his face easing back into their usual smoothness.

“He’s infected, too?” Harvey asks, utter disbelief with the universe at large evident in his tone. “Is there anyone else who wants to tell me they’ve got the virus?”

“Does it matter?” Edward snaps. Evidently, his patience is very thin. “Hand over Penguin, or I pull the pin on this grenade and you won’t get your antidote!” Oswald scoffs. Ed turns to look at him.

“A little crude, don’t you think?” Oswald jabs.

“Nygma!” a distinctive voice calls. It seems to him that Barbara Kean does not sound pleased with Edward. Oswald smiles. He never thought he’d be so grateful to hear her voice. Clearly, Edward handing over Jervis— a valuable hostage, considering everything that was going on —was not a plan they had both agreed on. At least he had a _chance_ now.

“Did you really think you could get away with this?” Barbara says, advancing around the corner. She has her gun in hand, Butch and Tabitha flanking her with additional firepower. Oswald is still hopeful, however. His only goals are to _not_ get shot or captured in the chaos that is bound to ensue. The only person he really has to worry about is Edward— who most likely has a more elaborate plan in mind than to merely shooting him. In the event that simply shooting him _is_ his plan, Edward just so happens to have terrible aim, anyways. He also needs to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. At any rate, it’s better odds than Oswald just had.

“I knew you’d figure out that this was about Oswald, but how’d you figure out where we are?” Edward says, talking fast. Oswald doesn’t sense any anxiety in his tone, but there is that same driving curiosity he’s come to know so well. He squishes his fondness down.

“Please, you know how many cops I got on the payroll?” she asks rhetorically, tilting her head and waving her arm to one side in disbelief. She turns and addresses Jim. “Oh, baby, you might wanna use your inside growls making secret calls inside the GCPD.” Oswald turns to look at the man currently holding him captive for a _very_ illegal, high-stakes hostage exchange, which he had _apparently_ negotiated inside of police headquarters. Unbelievable. He catches Edward doing the same next to him, a similar look of reproach on his face. Amateur mistake.

“Now hand him over!” Barbara growls, cocking her weapon. Edward looks back at Jim, then turns and snatches the grenade from Tetch, rolling it towards the trio. Oswald runs while he has the chance, making a break for the exit. He looks around for some kind of weapon to use, _anything_ , spotting a metal pipe to his right. Taking it in hand, he moves back to the doorway, preparing to hit Edward over the head with it as hard as he can. Edward runs through the door, pausing for a moment as he scans the lot for a sign of his quarry. Oswald swings with everything he has, aiming for the back of his head.

Edward falls forward with a cry of pain, landing on his hands and knees. His ridiculous hat dislodges and hits the pavement. Edward’s pistol is still firmly in hand, and Oswald would prefer for him to be unconscious for this next part. It would make him much easier to transport. He winds up for a second strike, holding the pipe over his head in both hands with the intention of bringing it down on his head. Edward rolls, asphalt flying up from where the pipe meets the pavement as Oswald leaves a small crater behind. Oswald takes a wild swing as Edward tries to move away and get to his feet, just barely missing him. Edward manages to stand and avoid that blow, but Oswald is already swinging again, and Edward had unwisely used time he should have spent putting distance between them to try and get vertical again. Oswald can tell as he swings that this one will connect, Edward has no time to move aside—

Instead Edward catches the pipe in his left hand, pulling it easily from Oswald’s grip and tossing it away. He holds the back of his head afterwards, pointing his gun at Oswald. Oswald’s heart leaps into his throat. So, this is the end, is it? Edward Nygma— simultaneous love of his life and greatest misery —is finally going to do him in.

“That hurt,” his nemesis whines petulantly, “I just want to talk.” Edward flips the gun around in his hand, holding it by the barrel. He wiggles it, gesturing for Oswald to take the butt of the gun. Oswald darts forward, snatching it from Edward’s hand and quickly pointing it at him.

“See the squad car over there?” Oswald asks, gesturing with his chin. Edward nods. “Walk to it.” Edward obeys, heading for the car without complaint.

“You don’t have to point that at me,” Edward says. He casts a glance over his shoulder to watch Oswald following him, gun firmly in hand and aimed in his direction. Oswald ignores him, walking around the other side of the car. He opens the passenger side door, rooting around inside and then walking back around the car, gun still trained on Edward.

“Turn around,” Oswald says, holding a pair of handcuffs he’d retrieved from the glovebox.

“Those won’t do you any good,” Edward says, complying. “I’m infected, they won’t hold me.”

“It will make me feel better,” Oswald says. “Or buy me some time, at any rate.” Edward holds his arms behind his back for Oswald to cuff. Oswald clicks them tightly around one wrist, then the other. He presses the barrel of the gun into Edward’s spine.

“Get in the back,” he says, opening the door for Edward with the other hand. He pushes Edward’s head down as he gets in so he doesn’t hit it again, slamming the door shut quickly once he’s inside and wondering why he bothered.

Oswald pulls Bullock’s keys from his pocket and gets in. He starts the car, driving out of the warehouse lot and waving cheerfully as he passes Jim, Harvey, and the creep they traded him for. Edward laughs uproariously in the back.

“You stole his keys?” Edward asks between giggles, “That is hil-arious!” Oswald can’t help but let a small smile creep onto his face at such an open display of delight.

“I convinced them to uncuff me for the sake of my _dignity_ , then picked Bullock’s pocket for the keys,” Oswald brags.

“How did you know Barbara would show up at the warehouse?” Edward asks, leaning closer to the grate separating them. He speaks almost directly into Oswald’s ear, and it sends a shiver through him. Oswald doesn’t have a clue where he’s driving, and no plan for how to deal with Edward. But the other man’s excitement is practically contagious. He sounds so eager, like how he used to when Oswald impressed him. He’s missed that, loathe as he is to admit it.

“I didn’t,” Oswald says, allowing himself some cheer at his good luck. “If it wasn’t for her, Gordon would have turned me over and I’d most likely be dead.” He’s a little bitter over Gordon’s final betrayal, but at least today had given him the closure he needed from that relationship. Now he just needs to figure out what to do about this one.

“But fortune favors the bold,” he continues, looking up into the rearview mirror to find Edward staring intently at him.

“Again, I wasn’t planning on killing you. Don’t be so dramatic,” Edward corrects. Oswald rolls his eyes. Edward had most certainly been planning to kill him, and he has no idea what’s changed since they saw each other last.

“So,” Edward breezes on, talking animatedly into his ear. “Why did you steal the keys, if you didn’t know she was coming?”

“Because I hate them,” Oswald says. “If they were going to hand me over, the least I could do was make them walk home.” Edward falls back against the seat, laughing hysterically.

“Did you see their faces,” he gasps, “when they realized you had stolen their ride?”

“I did,” Oswald says, letting Edward’s good spirits suffuse him. “It was priceless.”

“Now _there’s_ the man I love,” Edward giggles. “Priceless!” It takes Oswald a moment to register what he’s said, and when it does, his face darkens. He slams on the brakes, pulling over to the side of the road. Edward braces his legs against the back of the seat as they come to a sudden stop, and Oswald whips around in his seat to face him.

“What did you say,” Oswald hisses, his good mood obliterated in a snap. It’s not a question so much as it is a threat. He will shoot Edward right here if he mocks him again, he tells himself.

“You don’t just plan ahead,” Edward explains, as though Oswald simply didn’t understand and merely requires further elaboration as to _why_ he’s just confessed his love. “You’re skilled at playing the long game, of course, but that’s not all there is.” He shakes his head, gazing out of the window instead of at Oswald. He appears to be deep in thought.

“Sometimes a situation is out of your control, but you take chances; you take what you can get. Even when it seems like it might be pointless or futile to try, you come out alright, if not on top. You give it a _shot_ , if it wasn’t exactly what you always had in mind, or a part of your original plan.” Edward pulls his gaze from the window, staring down at his knees and biting his lip. Oswald wonders if there is anything he regrets not trying when he had the chance, given that he knows Oswald plans to kill him. Oswald had told him as much, back when they were being imprisoned by the Court of Owls

 _I am still going to_ , he reminds himself, dangerously close to changing his mind. Edward is right about him; he is very opportunistic. Now he’s reeled Oswald in by telling him that he loves him. Edward _knows_ Oswald will be intrigued, that he might take a chance and try to spin this in his favour, try to win him back. _What game is he playing_ , Oswald wonders, eyes narrowing.

“You always seem to be able to balance the risk against the reward in your favor,” Edward starts again, gaze remaining averted downwards. “Almost always, that is,” he corrects, certainly thinking of the risk Oswald had taken when he killed Isabella. And what an idiotic risk it had been, he laments. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. He knows now that he should have taken anything Edward gave him and been satisfied with that. People like him didn’t get people like Edward. He should have scavenged whatever scraps of Edward’s affection he could, because that was far better than losing him completely. It was too late, now.

“Even when you thought you were going to die, you were still making the most of the situation. You have a unique ability to fly by the seat of your pants, Oswald,” Edward continues. He finally looks up at him, their eyes meeting. His gaze is soft. There’s no anger there, despite the fact that he’s handcuffed in the back of a police car, at the mercy of the man he has been hunting down and trying to kill. The man who has been hunting _him_ down and trying to kill him in turn.

“That’s why I love you,” Edward concludes. His voice is careful, not mocking or scornful. It’s like he’s describing the weather to a blind man, trying his best to explain something to Oswald that he has never experienced. Oswald shakes his head.

“You don’t get to say that to me,” he growls. “Not now. Don’t you _dare_.”

“I can’t help it,” Edward says. “I tried, but the virus… It’s all I want to say to you, now.”

“The _virus_ is making you want to say that you love me?” Oswald asks, voice brimming with disbelief.

“It’s shown me who I really am, the parts of myself I’ve been denying,” Edward says, leaning closer to the barrier between them. His eyes are wild, eager. “It’s shown me what I truly want, how I can be stronger.” Oswald scoffs.

“Alright, let’s say I buy this. The virus has shown you that you _love me_ ,” his tone is deliberately contemptuous, “and that somehow makes you _stronger_? Pardon me if I seem to be a little slow on the uptake here, but I recall you singing an entirely different tune… since the time we first became acquainted, in fact.”

“I was wrong,” Edward says simply. A declaration of that nature should be momentous, it should be _agonizing_ for him to admit. Yet Edward seems entirely unperturbed. Either this virus has made him more insidious and shown him a plan that will destroy Oswald further, or it is acting as Edward claims and shown him something he was trying to repress. He considers Jim Gordon’s actions, the alleged effects of the virus… the second theory seems to fit. But it doesn’t discredit the first. Edward is extremely intelligent, and it’s very possible that the virus has merely fed his ego and given him the confidence boost required to try and trick Oswald _again_ in a bid to end him. _Did the virus buy him acting lessons, too?_ a small voice mocks. Alright, so Edward made a rational argument… given what Oswald already knew about the virus. But how to _prove_ it?

“Explain,” Oswald demands. If his logic was sound, Oswald would consider the possibility that Edward might _actually_ be buying what he’s selling.

“It was hard for me to understand, before the virus took away the inhibition to suppress my feelings and pretend they weren’t there. Once I was infected, I was forced to confront everything I’d kept locked away, every desire I had tried to pretend didn’t exist.” Edward pauses, tilting his head. “You know, your brain is very good at keeping you from thinking about things that would otherwise be unpleasant. Things that would cause you distress or anxiety. There are many defense mechanisms it employs to save you from having to deal with things you’re not ready for.”

Edward lifts his hands, fingers curling through the grate. Oswald leans back, fingers tapping over the gun at his side to ensure it’s still firmly in his grasp. He must have moved the cuffs and slipped them under his legs to bring them in front of himself. Oswald isn’t sure when; he hadn’t noticed. He chastises himself for not being more vigilant with his highly dangerous captive.

“Thanks for the lesson, Dr. Freud, but I took high school psychology. Everything he says is bogus,” Oswald mocks, rolling his eyes.

“His daughter Anna was a little closer to the mark, in my opinion,” Edward says. “The virus showed me what I was doing, that I was denying myself what I truly wanted. It’s helped me accept who I am. The most important function is that defense mechanisms operate unconsciously, to protect self-esteem. What I was hiding from myself was… very damaging. Or at least… it would have been, if I didn’t have the virus to help me.”

“What were you hiding?” Oswald asks, allowing himself to be intrigued, even if he’s not completely sold on Edward’s story. Although… Edward has never revealed so much of himself. Perhaps the virus _had_ reduced Edward’s ability to keep the hidden parts of himself tucked away. He’s always held his cards close to his chest with Oswald— with everyone, really —never revealing anything too personal or telling. Oswald had understood him regardless. He hadn’t needed to know _all_ of his secrets to know him.

On the other hand, Edward could just be ‘sharing’ false personal information and feigning openness in order to play Oswald for a fool. _Only I could do that_ , he thinks, remembering his time with Maroni. Edward was too prideful to play at being vulnerable. Even if it meant a worthwhile payoff, he wouldn’t want to be seen as weak or foolish for even a moment. Edward would never have kissed Mooney’s feet or endured Maroni’s slaps. Oswald had absolutely no qualms about lowering himself to pull himself up higher, but Edward certainly did. Perhaps this wasn’t an act. And if it wasn’t… well, that lead to a whole host of other questions.

“It starts with you, with what I told you the night I exposed Butch as the leader of the Red Hood Gang,” Edward says. “Well, it starts before that, even. I’ve always wanted to have someone to… devote myself to. The first person who let me was Kristen, and then there was you. Then Isabella,” he says, and the name doesn’t seem to cause him pain.

“What do you mean?” Oswald asks. He can understand devotion. He’d found himself willing to sacrifice himself for Edward, and he’d have done anything for his mother.

“I told you I would do anything for you, Oswald,” Edward says, echoing Oswald’s sentiments as his fingers curl through the grate. “It was _terrifying_.”

Oswald tilts his head, considering him. He still looks earnest, _honest_. It’s hard to doubt him. Yet it would be easiest to doubt him, rather than open up the can of worms that come with what he is saying, should his words be true.

“So, what are you saying?” Oswald tries again, wanting to get to the root of this. So help him, if Edward says he loves him again—

“I’m saying I would have killed for you, I would have died for you, I would have done _anything_ you asked of me!” Edward shouts. He pulls back and slams his hands against the metal between them. It bends. Oswald jumps back against the wheel, bringing the gun up between them.

“I would have done anything for you, and you betrayed me! You killed the woman I loved, and do you know what the worst part was?” Edward asks, tears in his eyes. “I still would have done anything for you, even afterwards.” Oswald inhales sharply through his nose.

“I don’t believe you,” he says. Not yet. It wasn’t possible that Edward had still ‘ _secretly’_ desired to be by his side. Certainly not after he’d found out that Oswald was responsible for Isabella’s death. Edward huffs and presses his hands together like he’s praying.

“You have to understand… Isabella was a part of the original plan. Smart, beautiful, and in love with me. She was like a switchboard; she returned my attention back to the original pattern I had wished to complete. _The American Dream_.” He swings his hands through the air mockingly.

“A nice car, a house in the suburbs… two point five kids, and a dog. The life I had always wanted growing up, the dream I had held onto by the tips of my fingers even when he told me—” Edward cuts himself off, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I digress. The _point_ ,” he continues, popping the ‘p’ and enunciating the ‘t’, “is that I realized what I would do for you, and it terrified me. I went back to basics. It was familiar, it was _normal_. Isabella, what she represented— it’s what everyone is _supposed_ to want. What _I_ was supposed to want. There was nothing disturbing in conforming.”

“But it wasn’t what you _really_ wanted,” Oswald says, beginning to see the pieces fall into place.

“Precisely,” Edward says. “You were right, Oswald. I would have been perfectly happy with her, I’m sure. But I would have been lying to myself about who I am. That second time we met, I was finally ready to move forward, to be someone new.” _And like the butterfly, I've come to realize that I cannot be a caterpillar once again._

“Then I met Isabella, and I thought that maybe I _could_ be the person I once was again… Of course, that didn’t last long.” No, it hadn’t, because Oswald had snatched that chance from him and hit it with a train.

“Permanently saying goodbye to the possibility was painful; admitting it to myself was _worse_. It meant admitting for a second time that everything I’d been struggling to obtain was always going to be just out of reach. It was a futile effort. Now I know that it’s not in my nature to fit into that mold. Maybe I could have, once, but after meeting you…” Edward smiles, and Oswald feels his heart melt. When was the last time Edward had looked at him like that? He’s _missed_ him, despite everything. It’s infuriating, that Edward can still do this to him. Can still make him _weak_.

“You helped make me into the person I am. You shaped me into something greater, and I could never fit back into the life I used to want. Not really. Trying to would be like jamming a puzzle piece into the wrong puzzle. You _changed_ me… I just didn’t want to admit it,” Edward says, shrugging.

“To be fair, I think you did a fair deal of that shaping on your own,” Oswald says. He’d been wrong, back on the docks. Edward wasn’t _nothing_ without him, and Oswald can’t take all the credit for the person he is now. Edward had been the one to rise to every challenge, to continually exceeded Oswald’s expectations. Not that he’s going to admit that _now_ , but perhaps later…

 _There won’t be a later if I kill him_ , he realizes with a start. The idea pains him. How convicted was he about killing Edward? Not very, it seemed.

“Thank you,” Edward says with a small smile, glowing at the praise. Oswald had forgotten how easy he was to please. He was always so desperate for Oswald’s approval, or at least, he had been.

“We’re straying, though. Up to that point, I knew I had a strong loyalty to you. I knew I would do anything for you. When Isabella died, I thought it must have been a sign that I wasn’t meant for that kind of life, that fate was telling me something. My time with her was a dream, but it was a dream that could never be mine. Not forever. I was willing to accept that.” Edward’s face twists with rage.

“Then I found out that it wasn’t fate at all, but that someone had _taken_ her from me. Someone had _stolen_ that life and _ruined_ my second chance at being the person I had always wanted to be, living the life I was _supposed_ to have. I was furious.” Oswald remembers his ire very well. He’d never seen Edward so emotional, so _distraught_ as when he’d come to Oswald asking for his aid in finding Isabella’s murderer and punishing them. There had been tears in his eyes, voice cracking as he thanked Oswald. He’d been so grateful, so glad he was correct in assuming that he could count on Oswald to help him in his time of need. Oswald feels something like shame burning in him— a feeling he hasn’t had in quite some time.

“When I found out it was you…” Edward swallows hard. “I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do. I would have done anything for you, and you betrayed me.” Oswald has never felt worse than he does right now; even sinking into the river with a bullet in his gut is preferable to the remorse he feels. He’d been so close… closer to winning Edward’s heart than he’d ever dared to dream. If only he’d acted differently, he might have— Oswald cuts his thoughts short. There was no room for remorse and regret in his life. Not anymore.

“I thought... I should have killed you right there, after I found out it was true; that was what anyone else would have done!” Edward cries. He puts his fingers to his eyes, pressing in.

“Why didn’t you?” Oswald ventures, “Why not just kill me?” Edward laughs, or sobs. Possibly both.

“You had just confessed that you loved me,” Edward says, “It was a _little_ confusing. Especially so once I realized I _still_ would have done anything for you.” Oswald heart stops. This is the second time Edward has said as much, and his reasoning is beginning to become more believable. Something like hope begins to bubble inside of him for the first time in a long time.

_Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all._

Oswald steels himself against it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I draw heavy inspiration from how the virus affected Jim and Leslie and would love to know your thoughts regarding my take on it thus far.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and Edward finish their talk, but Oswald requires additional reassurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, I was very busy with life, hence the unanticipated wait. Lucky for you, that was the longest hiatus you'll have to deal with, and it wasn't even that long (seven days is nothing)! I hope you enjoy. Another 4k and safe for work, apart from mild intimacy (kissing).

“Even after I—” he swallows, trying to tamp down the sudden optimism rising from within his very soul. He sharpens his tone into something like anger and disbelief, “Even after I killed Isabelle?”

Oswald uses the incorrect name with purpose, hoping to provoke Edward in some way. His ire would make more sense than this sudden… passivity. It’s unnerving; Oswald couldn’t have predicted such a reaction, and he’s eager to bait Edward in a way that proves he still understands him.

“Isabella,” Edward gently corrects. No, that’s certainly not what Oswald had been expecting. It’s reassuring in one sense, but baffling in all others.

“I told you that you were the best friend I ever had, do you remember that?” Oswald remembers that day very well. He nods.

“A few minutes earlier, I was fantasizing about stabbing you in front of the entire crowd. It didn’t... sit right. If I was going to kill you, if it was truly going to be a crime of _passion_ , I would have done it when you confessed that you loved me. I would have done it there, the moment my suspicion was confirmed. You know, I even took my knife out,” Edward says, looking up at him with something like guilt in his eyes at this confession.

“Yet this one… nagging thought was preventing me. You don’t _wait_ to kill your lover’s _murderer_ , best friend or no. Who does that?” Edward asks, sounding exasperated.

“The only possible explanation was that I still had… amicable feelings for you, to say the least. Even after what you did. The very idea was horrifying. What else would I let you do to me? What other hurts would I be willing to let you get away with just to stay by your side?” He shakes his head, as though clearing the thought from his mind.

“If that was friendship— or even love— I didn’t want it. If some part of me was still willing to do anything for you after a betrayal of that magnitude, I couldn’t trust myself to be around you. I wasn’t going to be rendered helpless by my love for you, or become your doormat. I couldn’t let myself, not after working so hard all my life to ensure that I would never be under the power of someone who would hurt me ever again,” Edward says, fists clenching in his lap.

“Your father?” Oswald guesses. Edward had never spoken of his parents, and he’d been meaning to press him on the subject for some time. Edward’s head snaps up. He nods, slowly.

“Astute as always,” he confirms. “You loved me, but you hurt me. Worst of all, a part of me wanted to let you get away with it, because I love you too. I couldn’t go back to being that scared little boy, desperate for any scrap of love and willing to suffer endless abuse for even a _chance_ at it. Instead... I pretended those feelings didn’t exist, that I had never even _considered_ allowing you to kill her and then falling into your arms. What normal person would do that? What _self-respecting_ person would do that?” Edward asks. He twists his fingers together, then releases them. Oswald recalls his willingness to let everything Edward had done slide, every torture forgiven. He finds that he can relate. Well, he’d forgiven everything up to Edward killing him, of course.

 _As if I wasn’t just thinking about forgiving that slight as well_ , he reminds himself. The thought was truly petrifying, knowing he could let Edward perpetrate something so horrible against him and yet still be so in love with him. And to think… Edward had been feeling the same way this entire time. Contrary to what they’d both believed, denying those feelings _hadn’t_ made them stronger. In fact, it had nearly destroyed them both. Perhaps there was something to say for the power of love. Rejecting it certainly hadn’t been very productive for them.

“The virus has relieved me of that, of the need to conform to what a _normal_ person would do. We’re not normal. _This_ ,” he says, gesturing between them, “isn’t normal. It’s not healthy. And _I don’t care_. I want you anyways, and I won’t keep denying myself simply because it might be indicative of a lack of self-worth to anyone who doesn't understand the way I feel about you. They don’t need to understand, and I don’t care what anyone will think of me for choosing to be with you. Deep down, I just want to be yours. I want to _let_ you do anything to me.” His fingers curl though the grate, and with a certain finality he says, “ _That_ is what the virus has shown me.” Oswald lowers the gun, leaving it on the passenger’s side.

“You want to be in a relationship with me?” he asks. This wasn’t the kind of conversation you had with a gun pointed at someone.

“Yes,” Edward says. “I want whatever you’re willing to give me. I’m sorry that I shot you. Your punishment was a way to prove to myself that I wasn’t incapable of standing up for myself, of fighting back. After that, your death was the only way to ensure that you didn’t have this... _power_ over me. I didn’t want you to, because you didn’t deserve it. You _still_ don’t deserve it.” Edward fidgets, rolling his shoulders.

“I don’t,” Oswald agrees, surprising even himself. Edward watches him intently, and he decides to elaborate.

“I betrayed you, Ed. I betrayed your trust, your friendship, your loyalty. Your… love. For that, I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, that apologies can never make up for what I did to you, but—” There are no ‘buts’. He stops speaking, and Edward tilts his head.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Edward says softly, “I don’t care about ‘ _deserve’_ anymore. I’m not sure I deserve this either, but it’s not about that. I believe in fate. I believe that love can make us unstoppable. Maybe we don’t deserve love, but when has the notion of what we deserve stopped us from doing everything in our power to get what we _want_?” It had never stopped Oswald, that was for sure. He hadn’t deserved Edward, and he knew it, too. It hadn’t prevented him from trying to have him anyways. Edward was certainly of the same mind with his first love, Kristen.

“Ed…” Oswald starts. He’s not sure how to say this. “If you didn’t have the virus, you wouldn’t have told me any of that. So I know it must be terrifying for you to admit that you still want… _this_.” He swallows, thinking.

“I’d like to assure you that— that just because I don’t deserve this… even though you don’t care whether or not I do… it doesn’t mean that I won’t stop trying to be the man who _does_ deserve your devotion.” Edward abruptly snaps his handcuffs apart.

“Ed?” Oswald asks, putting his hand on the gun. The other man is practically vibrating with energy.

“Open the door,” Edward says, his voice strained. “Before I rip it open.”

“Why?” Oswald asks, holding the gun in hand.

“Because I want you to kiss me, and you can’t do that from up there,” Edward snarls, punching the grate. “Now, Oswald!” Oswald scrambles to get out of the door without a second thought to how monumentally stupid this might be, swept up by what he’s feeling and slamming it shut behind him. He opens the back door and is immediately pulled through and on top of Edward. Edward is incredibly strong, Oswald notes, no doubt because of the virus. He kisses Oswald fiercely, mostly teeth.

“Ed, wait,” Oswald says, pushing him away. Edward backs off, and Oswald is keenly aware that it is only because he _let_ Oswald push him back that he moved at all. “What you said earlier, about being scared that you could love someone so much you’d let them get away with doing something terrible to you… It’s the same way with me. I forgave you for everything you did to me, and I was willing to die for you afterwards. I _did_ die for you… and I still feel the same way.” He brushes a stray strand of hair from Edward’s face.

“I want you to know, Edward, I would do _anything_ for you,” Oswald says. Edward kisses him again, pulling Oswald down on top of him.

“This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” Edward whispers, kissing him again.

“Me too,” Oswald confesses. He is a dangerous man, Edward is a dangerous man. Doing this is a leap of faith for them both. Letting someone have this kind of power over him… Oswald had only ever trusted his parents not to abuse that. Edward had always been loyal, though. He had always acted in Oswald’s best interests, until Oswald turned on him. They could have that again, Oswald believed that. They could rebuild the trust they’d once shared, given time.

“All my life I’ve wanted control… and this is certainly _not_ a force that can be controlled,” Oswald says. Edward gazes at him with something like wonder, then smiles.

“I think love is supposed to make you feel out of control,” Edward says, briefly kissing Oswald again, like he can’t help it. “It’s not _logical_. I think that’s how you know it’s right. I was afraid to give you that control… to be under someone else’s control.” Edward brushes a thumb along Oswald’s cheekbone and sets his jaw. He looks determined.

“I’m not afraid anymore. I want this.”

“I don’t feel very in control right now,” Oswald admits, pressing Edward back against the seat of the car to claim his mouth again. Not fifteen minutes ago, he fully intended to help Edward meet his maker. Now he was holding him with no intention of ever letting go. He’s not sure how he feels about everything that’s happened, not yet, but he does know that having Edward in his arms feels _right_. Maybe Edward is on to something. He finds himself caring less about being in control of the situation the longer he kisses Edward. It should be terrifying, knowing he’s given in so easily. It feels like weakness to allow himself to succumb to this feeling again.

“ _Oswald_ ,” Edward begs, chasing his lips as he pulls away. He puts a hand on Edward’s chest so he’ll keep his distance. He needs to think. Is giving in to love despite his fears the more courageous thing to do? Or is he a fool for thinking this won’t end badly, that for men like them love won’t be anything more than a crippling weakness?

“What’s wrong?” Edward asks, remaining still.

“This is a mistake,” Oswald says, his suspicious nature getting the better of him. 

“Oswald, no,” Edward starts, “The virus has shown me that our love will make us both stronger. I know it’s hard, that you’re taking a leap of faith, but think of the reward! It isn’t like you to throw away an opportunity like this.” Oswald recalls the beginning of their conversation, Edward’s admiration for his willingness to take risks. Was it because he was truly impressed by him, or was he merely hoping to flatter Oswald into making a foolish decision? What would be the point if he was? Humiliating him again? It was quite possible.

“You’re trying to make a fool of me,” Oswald says, backing away.

“No… no. I _love_ you, Oswald. I love you. Please, please don’t do this,” Edward begs, tears pooling in his eyes. He doesn’t make any moves against Oswald, but that doesn’t assure him. Edward is infected; he could overpower Oswald in an instant, and his gun is in the front seat.

“We’re going back to Fish’s hideout,” Oswald says, moving to get out of the car.

“You don’t mean this,” Edward says. “You’re just scared. We’re meant to be together, Oswald. You told me that one cannot deny love! What happened?”

“You happened!” Oswald snarls. He slaps Edward across the face, hard. “I was going to _die_ for you, and you still shot me and dumped me in a river! Now you think you can tell me it was because you were _scared_ and repressing your _feelings_ , and everything is just going to be okay again? It’s not okay! It’s not!”

“You betrayed my trust,” Edward says calmly, as if speaking to an aggressive wild animal. Oswald wonders where he learned the ability to deescalate, because he was certainly good at it. “You hurt me in ways you don’t even understand, and I’m still putting my life in your hands because _I love you_ , because I want to try again. I want to be able to trust you again. But I can’t if you don’t want to give this is a shot, too.”

“No,” Oswald says, shaking his head solemnly. Edward’s cool manner isn’t going to get him out of this one. “I learn from my mistakes. You were the one time I let love weaken me, and I am _never_ going to make that mistake again.”

“Your mistake was lying to me and hurting me!” Edward screams, dropping his previously soothing tone like the flick of a switch. “You— you fucking _coward_!” Oswald reels back. Edward has never used that kind of language in front of him. He looks livid, and yet he still hasn’t moved to hit Oswald back or attempt to subdue him. Of the two of them, Oswald realizes, he is far more likely to abuse the trust that Edward is extending him. After all, he had been the first to do so. Being called a coward hits him even harder than hearing Edward employ foul language for the first time. What would his mother say about this? About him slapping Edward across the face, about him running away from love like she had run from his father?

She would be disappointed. There isn’t a doubt in his mind about that.

“You’re right,” Oswald says. “But I’d rather be alive and a coward than a fool and dead.” Gertrude hadn’t understood how this city worked. He did. She hadn’t even followed her own advice, anyways.

“We’ll protect each other—” Edward starts, cutting himself off just as quickly. “No, let’s say you’re right. Let’s saying that being with the man you love _will_ send you to an early grave. I’d still rather have that than live a _long_ and _empty_ life, Oswald _.” Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light,_ Oswald’s own words echo back at him. It doesn’t escape him that Edward also has a point about them protecting one another. When they’d been together as Mayor and Chief of Staff, they’d been _untouchable_. Oswald had never gone so long without being beaten, challenged, or threatened. He shifts uncomfortably. There is one way he can be sure that Edward is sincere…

“We’ll finish this later,” he says, getting out of the car. He holds the door open for Edward. “Well?” Edward exits hesitantly. He goes around to the passenger’s side and waits.

“Don’t tell me you expect me to open the door for you,” Oswald snarks, “You’re not my boyfriend yet.” Edward smiles.

“Yet?” he says opening the door and climbing in. Oswald rolls his eyes and settles into the driver’s seat. “What do I need to do to make it official?”

“Blow me,” he deadpans, starting the car.

“Forward of you, but I can dig it,” Edward shrugs, putting his hand on Oswald’s fly. Oswald nearly hits the roof, he jumps so hard.

“I was kidding!” he exclaims, swatting Edward’s hand away.

“You need to be more clear, then,” Edward says, taking his hand back and rubbing it. He’s pouting.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Oswald says.

“This is the second time you’ve put _this_ ,” he says, bouncing his finger between them, “off until _later_. What’s so important you have to do it first?”

“I need to contact my people,” Oswald says.

“Your army of freaks?” Edward asks. “Where exactly were they when I saw you last?”

“With Fish Mooney,” Oswald grumbles. “You saw Ivy, of course.”

“The ginger?” Ed asks, and _of course_ that’s what he remembers of her. “What’s her gig?”

“Plants,” Oswald says. “She likes to tell me they’re better than people.”

“Why don’t you just call them?” Edward says, and Oswald is getting a little impatient with the questions. There is something he needs to do that Edward does _not_ need to be aware of. Not until he’s gotten what he needs, anyways.

“Can you cut it out with all the questions!” he snaps, both hands tightening on the wheel.

“Fine,” Edward huffs, “Be that way.”

The rest of the ride to Fish Mooney’s hideout is silent and uncomfortable. Oswald hadn’t meant to snap at him, but he thinks it’s excusable given that he’s under an undue amount of stress at the moment. He parks the car and gets out, expecting Edward to follow.

“Ivy?” Oswald calls once he’s through the door. He’s going to need her assistance for this. If things go wrong… He’ll require Fries’ abilities. The ride had given him a little time to think during Edward’s silence, and his contingency plan— should Edward fail to pass his test —will be to have Fries freeze him. That way, Edward will forever serve as a constant reminder to never let love weaken him again. Rather than jump the gun (or freeze ray) and ice him immediately, he wants to give Edward a chance to tell him the truth. Of course, if the truth is unfavourable… Fries serves as an excellent backup plan.

“Pengy!” she calls, darting from around the corner. She goes in for a hug, and Oswald puts a hand up between them.

“I’ve brought a guest,” he says, “Have you finished making more of your perfume?”

“Perfume?” Edward interrupts curiously, inviting himself through the door and into their conversation.

“I know how much you like exquisite scents,” Oswald explains before Ivy has the chance to. He shakes his head minutely at her as Edward becomes distracted with observing the space he’s entered.

“Yeah, I made plenty,” she says, tilting her head at him. She still seems confused, but hopefully she’ll play along well enough. “Want me to grab some?”

“If you would,” Oswald says. She skips out of the room, and Oswald starts when he feels Edward’s arms wrap around him from behind. Edward must be dissatisfied with how his first attempt turned out, because apparently he is now attempting seduction.

“So,” Edward says, voice low and husky in Oswald’s ear, “Are you going to give me a tour?”

“Anywhere in particular?” Oswald asks, because he’s fairly certain he knows where this is going.

“Well, I would like to make use of a bedroom, now that you mention it,” Edward purrs, biting his earlobe and pulling. Oswald swallows, his resolve crumbling. He just needs to do this one thing, first.

“I don’t want Ivy returning at an… _inopportune_ time,” Oswald says, pulling free from Edward’s grasp. “Later,” he promises.

“Is that your new favourite word?” Edward spits, clearly displeased. He turns away from Oswald and begins observing his surroundings again, purposely avoiding him. Ivy returns shortly, much to Oswald’s relief. He knows now how well Edward maintains a grudge, and he’d like to get back to making him happy (or putting him on ice) as soon as possible. She wiggles the bottle in her hand, and Oswald nods. Ivy applies it to her wrist, then her neck.

“Would you like to smell my perfume, Mister…?” Ivy starts, throwing her hair back over her shoulder and tilting her neck.

“Nygma,” Edward fills in. “I can smell it from here, actually. It certainly is… interesting.” Oswald can see the wrinkle in his nose. He finds Ivy’s perfume unpleasant, then. How odd.

“Er.” Ivy seems startled by this development. “Don’t you want a better whiff of it?” Edward smiles insincerely.

“Of course,” he says, clearly trying not to be rude to Oswald’s ally. He steps closer and bends to smell her neck, casting a glance at Oswald as he does. A moment later he stumbles backwards. “What is that?” he asks, dazed.

“I have some questions for you,” Oswald says. “Tell him to take a seat.”

“Sit down,” Ivy says. Edward immediately drops to sit on the floor. “I mean, um, sit on the couch over there.” Edward obeys.

“How did he get infected?” Oswald asks. It hadn’t come up, but he wants to know.

“How did you get infected?” Ivy asks, looking confused. It occurs to Oswald that he should probably explain that he meant the Tetch virus, and not something else. All well.

“I was at the train station meeting an informant, she claimed to have information about Fish Mooney. I never saw her. Then a red gas filled the station, and I was infected,” Edward recalls, his voice monotone.

“Ask him if he loves me,” Oswald says, trying to keep a stiff upper lip. This is necessary, he tells himself.

“Do you love Oswald?” Ivy asks.

“Yes,” Edward says. “I would do anything for him.” Oswald puts a hand to his mouth, but that doesn’t mean anything. Edward had still shot him despite loving him, by his own confession.

“Ask him if he intends to do me harm,” Oswald says, covering all his bases.

“Are you going to hurt him?” Ivy asks, crossing her arms. She appears to be attempting to look intimidating. The effect is adorable. Edward seems to think it over for a moment. Usually the answers to Ivy’s questions come immediately and without hesitation. Oswald steadily grows more suspicious.

“Not unless he hurts me in some manner I find unacceptable,” Edward decides, “and only if he asks me to.” That’s not reassuring. It’s extremely cryptic, frustratingly so.

“What does that mean?” Oswald snaps.

“What do you mean!?” Ivy yells at him. She’s so excitable sometimes; Oswald is still getting used to it.

“Well,” Edward begins, “For example, I like having my hair pulled when I’m—”

“That’s enough!” Oswald screeches, leaping to cover Ivy’s ears. Alright, so oversharing about sexual activities definitely wasn’t something Edward would do unless he was under the influence. Oswald believes him.

“Has he lied to me today?” Oswald asks Ivy, uncovering her ears.

“Have you lied to Oswald today?” she asks him.

“Yes,” Edward says. Oswald’s heart stops.

“What did he lie about?” he demands in a rush.

“What did you lie about?” Ivy demands in turn, stomping her foot comically.

“Oswald is my favourite man,” Edward says. “I loathe both Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock. If anything, Foxy is second, followed by—”

“Anything else?” Oswald interrupts. He does not need to know about any other men in Edward’s life; Oswald is fully aware of how well he deals with jealousy. That is to say, not well at all.

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” Edward says. “I think you’re brave, and I think you’re going to agree to give us a second chance.” Oswald is not as certain as he is, but this little interrogation certainly has been enlightening. He turns to Ivy.

“That’s all I needed, if there any way you can terminate the effects, or…?” Ivy shakes her head.

“I can leave, that’ll help it go faster. It should wear off in a few minutes. You can tell when his pupils are normal again.” Come to think of it, Edward’s pupils were blown wide. He hadn’t noticed.

“Thank you, Ivy,” Oswald says. It’s a clear dismissal.

“Be careful, Pengy,” Ivy says. How she manages to make that ridiculous name sound solemn, he’ll never guess. She leaves the way she came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Please.
> 
> As with Gabe, Oswald is capable of forgiveness, but only if he is assured loyalty (thanks, Ivy). If Edward had proved disloyal... well. You know what would have happened. But that's for canon to deal with, not me! Also, if Edward seems unusually hyper-sexual, it's because he is. I lay the blame on the virus, and I'm enjoying exploring what the lack of impulse control means for this character, who was so put together following his release from Arkham. Please share any other thoughts you have about this fic with me, I really love hearing them!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Penguin and The Riddler, at the center of Gotham’s stage. It’s what we’re meant to be.”  
> “No, Ed,” Oswald sighs. “The criminal underground should remain just that: _underground_."
> 
> Oswald and Edward navigate the cornerstones of many relationships: coitus and communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to spoils things but this chapter is where sexy things happen so if you're not into that... skim cautiously for safe bits.

“Ed?” Oswald calls, sitting next to him. Edward doesn’t respond, clearly waiting for Ivy’s instruction. That’s alright, he’ll wait. It doesn’t take long for Edward to shake his head like he’s tossing off cobwebs.

“What was that?” he asks, rubbing his cheeks. “I can’t believe I almost told her about my thing for—”

“Well, that’s all in the past now,” Oswald says. “Let’s look to the future. I now believe that your intentions are good. However, I’m not sure how we should proceed, or if it would be wise to.”

“Oswald,” Edward says, putting a hand on his knee. “I don’t mean to sound impatient or to pressure you, but I would really like to sleep with you. Sexually, I mean. Would you be amenable?” Oswald’s jaw drops a little, then he closes it, gaping like a fish.

“I- I would be amenable,” he replies. “But I really think we should establish what this relationship can be before we—”

“It’s just that the virus is _very_ insistent about this particular activity,” Edward interrupts, “and I desperately want you. Please?” Oswald very much enjoys the notion that Edward is _desperate_ for him, and the begging doesn’t hurt either. It’s just that he isn’t sure Edward is going to like what he has to say about their future together.

“Edward, I understand that you’re anxious for this to happen, but perhaps we can get to that—”

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘ _later’_ ,” Edward grits out, “I won’t be held responsible for what I do next.” Well then. He pushes Edward back until he hits the armrest of the couch.

“Alright, I suppose any additional discussion can wait,” Oswald relents.

“Excellent,” Edward says, grinning widely and tugging Oswald down to kiss him. Oswald licks into his mouth, sloppy. He not sure if he’s doing his correctly, but Edward is moaning and clutching harder at his shoulders, so he must be doing something right.

“Bedroom?” he gasps, coming up for air. Edward nods vigorously.

“Yes, yes. Please, lead the way.” Oswald stumbles getting off the couch, then pulls Edward up after him. He takes his hand, turning and leading him towards his makeshift room. The mattress isn’t as soft as the one at the mansion, but Edward clearly does not currently possess the patience required to relocate. He lets go of Edward’s hand in the kitchen, rooting around in a cabinet.

“This isn’t the bedroom,” Edward says, tapping his foot impatiently.

“I don’t have proper lubrication,” Oswald says, pulling a bottle of olive oil from the cabinet. It’s extra virgin, he notes with a grin.

“Ahem,” Edward coughs loudly. He has a small bottle in his hand, wiggling it from side to side.

“You!” Oswald sputters, flabbergasted.

“I was hoping for a pleasant reunion after I rescued you,” Edward says. “I came prepared.”

“I could kiss you,” Oswald says, striding towards him.

“You can,” Edward agrees, bending to let him. Oswald pushes him down the hallway as they kiss, Edward’s arms wrapped around his shoulders as Oswald walks him backwards to his temporary quarters. He pushes Edward into the door, fumbling for the knob. Edward lifts a leg around his hip, and Oswald uses his hand to tug it higher when he grows impatient in his fight with the door. Oswald moves harder against him, locking their hips together so his erection meets Edward’s. Edward breaks the kiss, tossing his head back and cracking it against the door with a moan, his hips bucking into Oswald’s.

“Gross!” Ivy shouts, throwing something at them. When she had gotten there, Oswald doesn’t know. He releases Edward’s leg so he can stand properly, putting a foot of space between them once Edward is steady.

“Ivy, I suggest you take a long walk,” Oswald says, trying to convey his meaning just by looking at her. She scowls.

“You’d better not be doing things when I get back,” she threatens, turning towards the front door and stomping out. Oswald turns his attention back to Edward, who is extremely red in the face.

“I’ve never been caught before,” Edward says, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the direction Ivy left. “That was so embarrassing.”

“Well, I’m not really sure how to recapture the mood,” Oswald says, turning the doorknob with ease now that he’s not distracted. “It’s not much,” he says, leading the way inside.

His bed consists of a mattress of poor quality sitting on the floor, with a single pillow and quilt. There are no sheets. It’s not much, but it had been a place to crash the night before. Now Fish is dead, and he’ll just have to locate Fries and Pike so they can move back into the mansion now that Edward is no longer a threat.

“It’s enough,” Edward says, following closely behind Oswald. He spins Oswald around and pushes him onto the mattress. Oswald goes down like a log, shocked, bouncing hard and then scrambling farther back. Edward toes off his shoes and immediately follows, straddling Oswald. The last person who’d done that had practically been his sister… He shakes the memory loose. No reason to focus on that when the man of his dreams is currently in his lap. Edward bends and kisses him, impatience showing in his haste. He tears at Oswald’s clothes, stripping him quickly. At least one button on his shirt comes loose in the process, but Oswald finds he doesn’t even mind.

It’s only when Edward is pulling his jacket and shirt down his shoulders that Oswald realizes he should be making an effort to undress him as well. Now wearing only an undershirt from the waist up, he pulls Edward’s tie loose and works on the buttons of his shirt. Edward dives for his belt, pulling his pants open and slipping his hand down to grasp Oswald’s cock and pull it free. Oswald suddenly finds himself incapable of unbuttoning Edward’s shirt any further in a civilized manner, and he tears the last two open. Edward’s mouth is slightly ajar, gaze intent on his hand as he strokes Oswald. He pulls Edward’s shirt down his arms and interrupts the motion of his hand momentarily. Edward shrugs out of the shirt but leaves his undershirt on, allowing Oswald a respite to pull his own undershirt over his head.

Naked from the waist up, Oswald pushes up onto his elbows to meet Edward’s lips. Oswald hears Edward undoing his own belt and shoving his pants down his thighs. Edward takes them both in hand, stroking their cocks together. Oswald gasps at the sensation, breaking the kiss and falling back against the mattress. Edward follows, chasing his lips and rutting against him.

“Is this good?” Edward pants, kissing Oswald’s nose.

“It’s perfect,” Oswald says, reaching down to join Edward’s hand. Edward gasps at the contact, biting his lip and then licking over it. Oswald sits up and kisses him again, chasing Edward’s tongue into his mouth. Edward rolls his hips into Oswald’s grasp, shaking with pleasure on top of him. The motions of his hand begin to lose their rhythm, and Oswald finds himself bucking up into him, frustrated. Edward moans and stops moving altogether, and Oswald flips them, swatting Edward’s hand away. He strokes them together, rutting between Edward’s legs. Edward trembles under him, pushing his glasses up into his hair so he can lay an arm over his eyes. He bites and licks at his bottom lip over and over again. Oswald kisses him, if only to put a stop to the incessant habit.

When Edward moves his arm away, his eyes are black. Oswald is momentarily startled, and stops moving. Could the virus be sexually transmitted? If it was transferred by blood, would coming in contact with Ed’s blood give him the virus, or was it only if he was exposed to Alice Tetch’s blood? He moves away.

“I’m sorry,” Edward pants. “I can’t pay attention to you when you’re touching me. Want me to get you off first? Or you can keep doing what you were doing, I liked that.”

“I should be wearing a condom,” Oswald says.

“Why?” Edward says, tilting his head. Oswald can’t even tell where he’s looking with eyes like that. “I don’t have anything, unless—” He abruptly stops speaking. His eyes clear, and he looks mortified.

“You don’t think it’s—?”

“I don’t know,” Oswald says. “Better safe than sorry.”

“But if you’re not… you know—” Edward makes a circle with his index and pointer finger, then pokes the index finger of his other hand through it in a crude simulacrum of anal intercourse.

“No, you still need it, even if you were, erm…” he trails off. He’s never spoken about sex out loud before, and judging by Edward’s lack of knowledge, sex with men wasn’t something he’d learned about.

“You mean…?” Edward makes another circle, this time with his whole hand. He mimes oral sex, sticking his tongue into his cheek for added realism. It looks absurd, but if hand gestures were the only way they’d make it through this conversation, so be it.

“Yes, that,” Oswald says, blushing at the display and trying his best to behave like an adult about this.

“I didn’t bring any condoms,” Edward says, slapping a hand into his forehead. “Idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Oswald says. “I don’t have any either, though.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Edward says, “Can we at least—?” He moves his fist up and down in a loose circle.

“I think so?” Oswald says, trying to remember the brief and almost entirely useless sex ed he’d had over twenty years ago. The people he’d hung around since never spoke much of precautionary measures, mostly it was just a lot of bragging.

“Should I—?” Edward says, reaching for Oswald.

“You’ve waited long enough,” Oswald says, taking him in hand again.

“Thank you,” Edward says, eyes shining with relief. He sighs and settles back onto the mattress, humming softly.

“Why don’t you take your shirt off? I want to see you.” Oswald says, stroking him gently.

“I’d prefer to keep it on,” Edward says, his body language changing to a more defensive posture, even with his cock in Oswald’s hand.

“Alright,” Oswald says. Perhaps Edward is uncomfortable with some aspect of his body. He doesn’t push it, and decides this is also a discussion for later. Oswald starts slowly, working Edward up to his earlier fervor again. He kisses him, bending over Edward on his knees. His injured leg begins to ache acutely, but there’s nothing he’d rather be doing, and he ignores it. Edward whines into his mouth and bucks into his hand, a shiver occasionally going through his thighs while they rest near either side of Oswald’s hips. Eventually Edward is panting too hard for kissing, pushing up into his hand and moaning wantonly. Oswald drags his mouth down to Edward’s neck, licking and biting over it, careful to never draw blood even as he sucks in order to draw it to the surface and form bruises.

“Oswald, I think I’m—” Oswald glances up at him, and his eyes are black again. He screws them shut, cutting himself off with a moan.

“Don’t hold back,” Oswald says. “Come on, I want you to come for me. Come for me, Ed, come on....”

“ _Oh!_ Oh dear,” Edward says, and Oswald watched intently as Edward comes over his hand. He continues stroking him, watching Edward’s face for a sign that he should stop. Edward moans, and his hips jerk up into Oswald’s hand erratically, his bitten pink lips parted as he cries out and gasps for air.

“Stop— stop,” Edward says eventually, pulling Oswald’s hand away.

“Good?” Oswald asks, kissing his cheek.

“Yes,” Edward says, “Just give me a minute. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I can wait for as long as you need,” Oswald says, settling down beside him and giving his leg a rest.

“Are you sure I can’t… use my mouth?” Edward manages to say aloud, sans hand gestures.

“I don’t think so…”

“It’s just that… I have a working theory that I’ve never tested,” Edward says, suspiciously blasé, seeing as the subject is a theory.

“Oh?” Oswald says, quirking an eyebrow and preparing himself for some manner of trickery.

“Mhmm, it’s just that... I believe I no longer have a gag reflex.” He blinks back at Oswald in a way that makes him wonder if Edward is attempting to coquettishly flutter his lashes. It’s working.

“No longer?” Oswald asks.

“Side effect of the virus, I believe,” Edward says, completely sincere. Oh no, Edward actually wants to deepthroat him. How is Oswald supposed to say no to that?

“We can test that later,” Oswald says, determined to be responsible about this. Edward’s face falls, though only minutely. Oswald is fairly certain he’s trying to hide his disappointment, albeit poorly.

“Okie dokie,” Edward says, pushing Oswald’s shoulders back so he’s laying flat on the bed. He straddles Oswald’s thighs, his release staining his undershirt over his stomach. Oswald probably should have made an effort to clean him up, but he likes the look of it. Edward wraps a hand around him, his long and clever fingers pulling an orgasm from him before long. He tries to control his expression when he comes, not wanting to look ridiculous. Edward stares owlishly at him the entire time, no doubt trying to ascertain what Oswald likes best in order to get him off as efficiently as possible. He does a marvelous job. When the last of his release has come, Edward bends, licking over Oswald’s chest and stomach.

“How is it?” Oswald asks, once Edward’s through sweeping every drop into his mouth.

“Tangy. I might have an appetite for more later,” Edward says, kissing Oswald. He can taste himself in Edward’s mouth, and the thought makes a warm feeling pool in his stomach.

“We should make ourselves decent before Ivy returns,” Oswald says, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

“Can’t we enjoy the afterglow?” Edward says, cranking the puppy eyes up to full blast and cuddling up on top of him.

“Alright,” he says, hugging Edward to his chest. Edward smiles wide and makes himself comfortable, pushing his face into the crook of Oswald’s neck. It’s about fifteen minutes later when they hear the front door open and are forced to separate. They use the quilt to perfunctorily wipe their stomachs and chests clean, and redress. Edward makes a beeline for the kitchen once they leave.

“Ask Ivy if she’s hungry,” Edward says, opening the fridge and surveying the contents.

“You’re cooking?” Oswald asks.

“Well, I really just want to feed _you_ , but it’d be rude not to ask,” Edward says, turning and looking through the cabinets next. Oswald leaves him to it. He’d try to help Edward cook dinner once, and had been cut off at every turn as Edward complained he was ruining his ‘system’. He finds Ivy in what might pass for their living room.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, leaning against the frame of the entrance.

“No, I ate while I was out. Got some groceries, too. Thanks for not being gross in front of me,” she says, flipping through a horticulture magazine.

“We’ll keep it to a minimum,” he promises. Too late, he wonders if he’s making a mistake speaking on Edward’s behalf. He could be very affectionate. Oswald is no better.

“Good, cause you scarred me earlier,” Ivy says, licking a finger to flip the next page. Oswald should tell her not to do that in front of Edward, it bothered him immensely. He wonders when exactly he’d started to care.

“I’m sorry about that,” Oswald says. “You know, one day you might get me back for it.”

“Ew, no,” Ivy says. “Boys are gross. They’re also stupid and easy to manipulate. I tricked like, a dozen grown men into letting me into their houses and they never even knew my name.” Oswald had nipped that in the bud shortly after they met, quickly catching on to the fact that this young woman was not all that she seemed. In fact, she wasn’t a young woman at all.

“I never said anything about boys,” Oswald corrects, heading back into the kitchen to most likely impede Edward’s ‘process’ just by being in the same room. It was a difficult feat to not be in the same room when he’d been living in Edward’s apartment. Edward has a pan on the stove and a pile of diced vegetables on the counter. There’s also—

“Is that Ivy’s tofu?” Oswald asks. Edward looks back at him.

“It’s tofu,” Edward confirms, “Is she hungry?”

“She ate, what are you making?” There’s also a pot steaming already.

“Veggie and tofu stir fry and white rice. Whoever is stocking your kitchen buys great ingredients. Couldn’t find any meat, though. Grilled chicken goes nicely, but the tofu will work,” Edward says, adding the veggies into the pan.

“That would be Ivy. She grows all of it herself. She’s also a vegetarian,” Oswald says, approaching cautiously into Edward’s newly seized domain.

“I was a vegetarian for a little while in college,” Edward says. “Way too expensive to budget, though. Didn’t last.”

“What made you start?” Oswald asks. He loves red meat, can’t imagine living the rest of his life sans filet mignon. Not to mention a nice smoked salmon…

“I was trying to impress a girl,” Edward says, “She was an activist; I admired her drive. President of several campus organizations, smart, capable.” Oswald deflates a little. Edward prefers women, he knows this. Edward’s preferences did not in any way reflect on him, Oswald reminds himself. He knows Edward loves him, as much as any person can.

“Didn’t work?” Oswald asks.

“Nope. She wasn’t looking for anyone, in fact. Devoted to her cause. In fact, she never dated in the entire four years I knew her. There were no real hard feelings, and I stayed active in the animal rights and green movements on campus. But truthfully, I might have gone a little heavy on the hamburgers afterwards, out of spite.” Oswald laughs, coming up behind Edward while he sautées at the stove.

“Petty revenge?” he asks, deciding to do something daring and snake his arms around Edward’s waist.

“You know it,” Edward says, leaning back against him. He doesn’t seem to mind the intrusion, and Oswald holds him a little tighter. He peers around Edward’s shoulder as he cooks, grateful that Edward isn’t kicking him out of his way. He likes this. Oswald noses at the nape of Edward’s neck and feels him shiver.

“Oswald,” Edward warns, turning the burners off. Oswald kisses the side of his neck. Edward drops the pan and it crashes loudly, startling them both.

“Oswald!” Edward reprimands, prying Oswald’s hands from around his waist.

“Sorry,” Oswald says automatically. He’s not really, there was no harm done. He _is_ sorry that Edward most likely will nip a repeat performance in the bud.

“Set the table,” Edward says, in a clear ploy to keep Oswald away while he’s finishing up. The table is a piece of plywood on four concrete blocks, stacked two high on each end. The dishes are paper, and the utensils plastic (left over from last night’s takeout). Oswald mournfully sets the table and considers the logistics of getting everyone into the mansion right after this. The tableware was certainly superior there. Fries and Pike needed to come back from wherever they’d gotten to. He should ask Ivy. Edward enters with the food, serving Oswald and then himself. His nose is wrinkled like he’s smelling something bad. Oswald understands. Their chairs are old milk crates, but despite the decor Oswald does enjoy his meal. Whatever Edward has done to the tofu has made it palatable, not that Oswald is a picky eater.

“It’s good,” he tells him between forkfuls, and Edward smiles gently at the compliment.

“Thank you,” he says, taking another dainty bite. Oswald goes in for seconds while Edward stabs halfheartedly at a large piece of pepper and drags it around his plate. He brings it up to his face and examines it closely before eating it, plate still half full. Oswald makes quick work of his second portion and rises.

“I need to talk to Ivy,” he says, collecting his plate for the trash. He makes his way over to Edward and tilts his chin up with one hand, kissing him softly.

“Come find me when you’re done eating,” Oswald says. Edward nods and turns his attention back to his food.

“Ivy, can you contact Pike and Fries for me? We need to regroup,” Oswald says, limping into their makeshift living room.

“Fries is already here,” Ivy says, now onto a gardening magazine.

“Oh,” Oswald says, wondering how he could have missed a six-foot-tall ice man traipsing around in a glowing suit. Well, he hadn’t required his services anyways. Edward had been sincere in his affections. He won’t be ending up an icy centerpiece anytime soon.

“I’ll call Bridgit now,” she says, opening her phone. “We’re just getting the stuff and going back to the mansion?”

“Correct,” Oswald confirms, “The coast is clear now that the Court’s been dismantled and Ed has ceased his antagonism.”

“I’m a brilliant antagonist though, aren’t I?” Edward says from somewhere behind him. He’s leaning against the door frame, a cocky smirk on his lips.

“I prefer you in another role,” Oswald says, checking to see that Ivy is occupied speaking to Bridgit and then winking.

“Oh, Mister Penguin,” Edward says, affecting a softer voice and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. He slides down the wall a few inches in a mimicry of feeling faint. Oswald checks over his shoulder to see Ivy animatedly waving her hands around and explaining the Edward situation to Bridgit. He approaches, taking Edward’s hips in his hands and pushing him more securely against the doorframe. Oswald steps between his legs and presses his body against Edward’s, the taller man’s arms coming around his shoulders. Oswald tilts his head up to meet Edward as he leans down.

“Question Mark guy?” Victor asks. Edward is the first to react, gasping and pushing Oswald off of him.

“Have we met?” he queries, smoothing down the front of his clothing and trying to slick his loose hair back.

“No,” Victor says. “Riddler, right?” Edward smiles, pushing his glasses up his nose and extending his hand for Victor to grasp.

“Please don’t call him that,” Oswald moans, dragging a hand down his face. Victor and Edward shake firmly, but Edward doesn’t let his hand go. He brings it to his face, examining the glove of Victor’s suit.

“Did you design this?” he asks, turning Victor’s hand over.

“No, Hugo Strange and his team did,” Victor says. “My cellular structure was altered, and I can only survive in subzero temperatures. I’m not sure how they crafted it, or I would have made another one of my own. Oswald retrieved it for me.”

“I’m sure I could help you puzzle it out,” Edward says, finally dropping his hand.

“I am a cryogenics engineer,” Victor says. “I’m just more focused on reversing my condition than sustaining it. I imagine the suit is much the same as the gun, it requires—”

“Liquid helium,” Edward says, cutting him off. “I’m familiar with your work.” Victor almost looks impressed, an expression Oswald has yet to see grace his features.

“You two can play mad scientist later,” Oswald grouses, interrupting their nerd-off. “Ivy, how goes it with Bridgit?”

“She’ll be here in ten,” Ivy says.

“Great. Edward, can I talk to you?” Oswald says, taking Edward’s arm and pulling him from the room before he can answer.

“What’s going on?” Edward asks, allowing Oswald to lead him to the bedroom.

“I can’t be seen bringing you into the mansion when you’re still one of the GCPD’s most wanted,” Oswald says, rooting through the closet and coming up with a plain trenchcoat. He searches for a hat and finds several baseball caps and a worn fedora. Fedora it is. He turns, holding them out for Edward to take. He doesn’t.

“What are you talking about?” Edward asks, confusion clouding his face.

“I’ve worked very hard to keep my criminal and public images separate,” Oswald says impatiently. “Right now, you’re a huge liability to my public image, and I’m not losing my holdings as a legitimate business man. You need to cover up; I can’t be seen with you right now.”

“That’s the point, Oswald,” Edward says, taking the clothes from Oswald only to dump them on the bed. “I want everyone to see us and to know that we are the most renowned criminals in Gotham. The Penguin and The Riddler, at the center of Gotham’s stage. It’s what we’re meant to be.”

“No, Ed,” Oswald sighs. “The criminal underground should remain just that: _underground_. We’re not meant to operate in the light. Now, it might take some time, but if I pull the right strings and talk to the right people, eventually we can go back to how things were before all this _Riddler_ nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” Edward says, voice firm. “This is who I am now, Oswald. I can’t go back, the only way is forward. I want to do this _with_ you.”

“That’s not going to happen, Ed,” Oswald snaps. “I’ve worked too hard to get where I am just to throw it all away by taking credit for my crimes so I can be thrown in Blackgate. No. Put the coat on.”

“I’m not hiding anymore,” Edward says, “I’ve come too far to go back now. We can be the kings of this city, the GCPD won’t be able to touch us. Step into the spotlight with me, Oswald. I want you by my side.”

“Not. Happening.” Oswald repeats. “Cover up that ridiculous suit so we can go.”

“I’m not doing that,” Edward says, shaking his head. “The virus has shown me—”

“The _virus_ ,” Oswald snarls. “Are you that weak-minded that you think what it’s telling you is real? That cavorting around in a shimmery green suit taking credit for your crimes is a good idea? It’s insanity, Edward, pure insanity! Now put on the damn coat and come with me.”

“It’s _genius_ ,” Edward insists. “Why is this so hard for you to understand? This is who I was always meant to be, and you’re meant to be with me. You’ll believe in ghosts, but you won’t believe in fate?”

“Ed, we make our own fate. That’s what I’ve always believed. You need to trust me when I tell you that what you’re doing is _madness_. It’s not too late to fix it, though.”

“It… it doesn’t need to be _fixed_ ,” Edward spits. “I’ll show you, I’ll _make_ you see.” He turns, storming out of the house.

“Ed! Ed!” Oswald yells, running after him. Edward is faster, making it through the door and down the street.

“Dammit!” Oswald screams, slamming the door behind him and then throwing a vase onto the ground. Victor is watching him.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Oswald says, turning his ire onto Victor.

“I’m not getting in the middle of a lovers’ spat,” Victor says, eyes wide.

“Thanks a lot,” Oswald growls, pushing by him. “Whatever, Ed knows where I’ll be. We’re waiting for Bridgit, and then we move. Victor, start loading supplies into your van for transport.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward first time handjobs, whooo! Quite the benchmark. Oh, and the first fight as well. This is what happens when Ed's newfangled super-villain pioneering clashes with Oswald's old school mob upbringing. Can their relatinship endure? Stay tuned! Please let me know your thoughts about anything in this chapter. Pretty please, even.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No one will ever love you like I love you.” 
> 
> Edward and Oswald reunite following their argument. Edward implements an unorthodox solution to their strife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the darkest thing I've written for this pairing, so be warned. Certain aspects can be seen as emotional manipulation, domestic violence, and dubious consent. This chapter is also NSFW, and contains canon-typical violence, as well as mentions of past abuse/child abuse.

“Oswald.” He jumps, spinning so his back is to the wall and facing his attacker, his entire body coiled and ready to fight.

It’s just Edward. He relaxes, smiling and practically running to take Edward into his arms. Edward lurches back with the force of it and hugs him in return.

“I was so worried, when you ran off like that I didn’t know what to think…” Oswald squeezes him harder, so glad that he’s safe, that he’s here.

“Hush, little bird,” Edward says, stroking his hair.

“Where did you go?” he asks, clenching and unclenching his fists in the material on the back of Edward’s suit. He alternates between smoothing it over and clutching Edward harder to him.

“I’m going to fix things,” Edward says, voice low. “I’m going to fix everything.”

He shifts, and Oswald feels a prick in his neck. He jolts back, pushing away from Edward, but Edward’s arm is like an iron bar across his back and he barely moves at all. Oswald finally catches a glimpse of Edward’s face, and his eyes are black again, a strange contrast to the gentle smile on his face. He pulls the needle free and lets it drop to the ground. It lands and makes a sound like a bell on the wooden floor.

“Now we can be together, the way we were meant to be,” Edward says. He bends and kisses Oswald, and Oswald can feel something else coursing through his veins and taking hold. Oswald pushes him off, surprised that he has the strength to do so.

“You infected me, why would you do that?” Oswald says, at a loss. They had been working things out, hadn’t they? At least, Oswald thought they had been. Edward had run off, upset with him. And for what? Because Oswald wasn’t interested in making himself a target for the GCPD and ending up in Blackgate? Why couldn’t Edward just be happy with the way things were? He feels furious, more angry with Edward than he ever has been in his life.

 _Take him_. Someone says. Oswald whips around, looking for the source of the voice.

“Do you hear them?” Edward asks. “Listen to them, Oswald. What are they saying?”

_Yours. He’s yours. Take him. Make him see._

“I— You should go,” Oswald says. He moves around Edward, heading for the door. Edward grabs his arm, keeping him from leaving.

“Is it about me? Give in, Oswald. Let the virus show you who you truly are, what you truly want.” He steps in close, lips hovering over Oswald’s. “Where you belong.”

 _By his side, in his bed, inside of_ —

“I’m not letting a virus dictate my life,” Oswald says. “Stop provoking me, Edward. I’m serious.”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Edward says gently. “I promise I won’t judge you, I’d let you do anything to me.”

_See how easily he submits? This is how it’s meant to be._

Edward kisses him again, putting Oswald’s hands on his hips.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers against Oswald’s lips. “Do you want me? I’ll let you have me. I’m yours.”

_Mine._

“Mine,” he snarls, crashing his lips against Edward’s. Oswald pushes Edward back against the wall, hardly noticing that his leg is paining him no longer. His entire focus is on Edward, his entire being consumed with _want_. The demands in his head go silent as he obeys, giving in to his desires. Edward moans and arches against him, arms circling Oswald’s shoulders.

“How do you want me?” Edward asks, lashes fluttering. His cheeks are pink, lips spit slick and dark from Oswald’s furious kisses. Oswald wants them wrapped around his cock. He pushes Edward to his knees, and he drops eagerly, licking his lips. Oswald undoes his fly and pulls his cock through his underwear.

“Get it wet,” he says, voice gone deeper and gravelly with lust. Edward smiles and licks him from base to tip, kissing the head and then suckling on it.

“Don’t tease,” Oswald warns, fisting his hand in Edward’s tresses and pulling him off his cock. He yanks Edward’s head back by his hair and forces him to look up at Oswald. He runs his other thumb across Edward’s bottom lip, rapt. Edward takes it into his mouth, sucking on the digit, cheeks hollowing obscenely. He releases it with a wet pop.

“I’ll be good,” Edward says, looking up at him coquettishly through his lashes. Oswald groans, steering Edward’s mouth back to his cock. Edward swallows him whole. Oswald curses, and Edward makes a sound around Oswald’s cock that might be something like laughter. Regardless, it sends incredible vibrations through Oswald that make him moan. Edward hums and bobs his head, deepthroating his cock with an ease Oswald had only ever seen in Fish’s more carnal business holdings. Oswald holds him still, fucking his mouth, and Edward takes it without complaint. He pulls free, saliva and semen spilling out of Edward’s mouth.

“Enough of that,” he says. “Take your pants off.” Edward hastily complies, and Oswald strokes himself lightly as he watches. Edward toes off his shoes, pants too tight to slip over them. He pulls Oswald to him the moment he’s done, kissing him deeply.

“It there a polite way to ask you to take me up against the wall?” Edward asks, breaking the kiss and hitching his leg up Oswald’s hip.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Oswald says, putting a hand under Edward’s thigh to keep it there. “Message received. We need—”

“It’s taken care of,” Ed interrupts, lifting his other leg to wrap around Oswald and trusting his hold. To his surprise, Oswald is able to keep him suspended against the wall. He grabs hold of Edward’s other thigh.

“Are you sure about that?” Oswald asks, grinding up into the cleft of Edward’s ass.

“What I’ve done is sufficient. Or perhaps I’d like it to hurt a bit,” Edward admits. “Please hurry, I want you inside of me.” There’s a chorus of agreement from somewhere, then Edward is taking hold of Oswald’s cock and guiding him inside. Edward hisses and bites his lip, letting himself sink down the wall until his ass is flush with Oswald’s trousers. Oswald adjusts his grip, shifting Edward minutely and making him groan.

“Does it hurt badly?” Oswald asks, prepared to lift Edward off the intrusion of his cock the moment he asks him to.

“I’m fine,” Edward immediately snaps back at him. “Just hold on a minute.” He tightens his legs around Oswald and moans, thighs trembling.

“Kiss me,” Edward requests, and Oswald immediately covers Edward’s mouth with his own. Edward whines and opens for Oswald’s tongue, one hand coming up to twist in Oswald’s hair and keep him there. Oswald moves a hand to Edward’s ass, fingers sinking into the soft skin there as he hitches Edward farther up the wall and steps forward to press them even closer together. Edward moans loudly, fingers tightening in Oswald’s hair and on the back of his suit, clinging desperately to him as his body is wracked with pleasure.

“Use me,” Edward begs, “Fuck me. Come inside of me. Please… please...” Heat coils in Oswald’s belly at the idea of it, and at the rare use of profanity.

_Make him beg for it. Make him earn it._

“You want me to fill you up?” Oswald whispers, nosing under Edward’s ear. “Fuck you until you’re dripping wet, my love?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Edward hisses, tilting his head back in an invitation. Oswald rolls his hips into Edward and sucks a mark onto his neck. _Mine._

“Have you been a good boy?” Oswald asks, a clear trap. Edward looks bewildered, even more so when the pleasant roll of Oswald’s hips stop. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” Edward says, defiant.

“You infected me,” Oswald reminds him. “That was very naughty.” He thrusts once, sharply, making Edward wail and arch back against the wall.

“It showed you want you want,” Edward says, teeth flashing. “Haven’t I always done everything for you? Don’t I always act in your best interest?”

“I think you did this for _you_ ,” Oswald says, punctuating it with another snap of his hips.

“ _Ah_ — Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” Edward asks, clenching hot and tight around him. Oswald hisses at the increased pressure, and Edward laughs. Oswald silences him when he moves in and out, quick and unrelenting, using his grip on Edward’s thigh and backside to lift and bounce him on his cock. Oswald stops abruptly.

“I could get this anywhere,” Oswald says, watching Edward’s expression as his cruel words hit home. Edward slaps him across the face, then kisses him so hard he draws blood.

“Not like with me,” Edward growls. “You’ll never find someone like me. No one will ever love you like I love you.” Earlier in the day Oswald might have doubted these words, that Edward could ever love him. Instead he is infused with a certainty that what he says is true, every cell in his body resonating in agreement with Edward’s words.

“No one will ever love you like I love you,” Oswald echoes reverently, fucking Edward in earnest now. “Say it again.”

“You’re the only one, Oswald,” Edward pants, “Oh, _oh_ — no one else. No one else sees me the way you do. _Ah, Oswald!_ ”

“Tell me you love me,” Oswald demands, biting at his throat and marking Edward above the collar of his shirt.

“I love you. _Ah_ , oh my— _please!_ ”

“I love you, Edward” Oswald growls. “I created you. You _belong_ to me.”

“I do,” Edward whispers, “I do, I do. It’s all I want. I’m _yours_ , Oswald. Oh _, heavens—_ I’m so close.”

“You’re mine,” Oswald says, biting more marks into his throat.

“ _Yours!_ Oswald, please let me come.” Edward’s eyes are screwed shut, head tipped back against the wall. He’s beautiful. He’s brilliant. He belongs to Oswald.

“Touch yourself for me,” he says, watching Edward take hold of himself. He strokes rapidly, matching Oswald’s pace as he pounds Edward into the wall. “Are you going to come for me?”

“O-oh, _yes_. Os-Oswald.” He kisses up and down Edward’s neck, over his marks, pleased with his work. Edward clenches around him and tips his head back, screaming into the echoing chambers of the manor.

“ _Oswald!_ ” he wails, fingernails scrabbling over Oswald’s back as his climax washes over him. Oswald works his hips faster, beginning to lose his rhythm as he chases his orgasm, the sudden increase of pressure in Edward’s tight ass driving him wild.

“Ed-Edward,” Oswald moans, mouthing kisses under his jawline. Edward is practically limp in his arms, doing the bare minimum to hold on as Oswald finally finishes inside of him. He comes with a growl, teeth tearing into Edward’s neck once more to leave his darkest claim yet. His knees shake, and he begins lowering them both to the ground when he thinks better of it and carries Edward to the couch instead. Edward lolls against him, kissing his cheek and across his nose. Oswald sits on the couch and lays back, arranging Edward on top of him so they both fit.

“That was incredible,” Edward murmurs, snuggling himself into a more comfortable position on top of Oswald. His cock slips free, and Edward sighs, kissing the lapel of his suit, over his heart.

“We need to talk about what you just did,” Oswald says, forcing his eyes to stay open. Edward hums and nuzzles into his chest.

“Can we take a nap first?” Oswald doesn’t possess the strength to oppose the idea. It’s late, and he hasn’t slept. Instead he’d stayed up waiting for Edward.

“Alright,” he says, eyes already drifting shut of their own accord.

When he wakes, Edward is sucking his cock. It’s not a bad sight to see upon first opening one’s eyes, but he’d been prepared to have a chat and now he’s so hard he can hardly even consider it.

“Good morning,” Edward says, pulling off with a wet pop.

“C’mere,” Oswald yawns, pulling Edward to him as he crawls up Oswald’s body for a kiss. Oswald tastes himself on Edward’s tongue, running his fingers down Edward’s back. He runs them between his cheeks and delves inside of Edward, feeling how he’s still wet with Oswald’s release. Edward shivers, hair falling into his face. He’d slept with his glasses on, and the lenses are smudged.

“I want to eat you out,” Oswald says. Edward flushes.

“Really?” he asks, smiling widely.

“Sit on my face,” Oswald says, sliding down off the armrest of the couch so Edward can kneel over him. The position would put the least pressure on his own leg since he’d be lying down— He abruptly recalls that it doesn’t pain him any longer; the virus had taken care of that crippling malady. Edward settles over him, and Oswald buries his face between his cheeks and gets to work. Before long Edward is rocking down onto his face and moaning wantonly, the hot, wet slide of Oswald’s tongue driving him crazy. Oswald stops, pushing Edward off a bit and peering up at him from between his legs.

“Turn around,” he says, and before long Edward is back to the state he was in when Oswald stopped. He slaps one of Edward’s cheeks, testing his reaction. Edward stiffens, which Oswald expected, but he doesn’t relax again after the blow. Oswald takes it as a bad sign.

“Too much?” he asks, kissing the cheek he’d struck. Edward stands, clamoring off of the couch. “Ed? Talk to me, love, please.”

“Warn me next time,” Edward says, sounding very much like Oswald should never, ever, attempt a ‘next time’. “Get undressed.” Eager to make amends, Oswald strips out of his clothes. He hadn’t undressed at all earlier. In fact, he’d even slept in his shoes. Finally nude, he sits back down on the couch and beckons Edward forward. Though Edward had only been wearing the top half of his garments, his undershirt is still on for some inexplicable reason. Edward follows Oswald’s gesture, settling into his lap, and Oswald immediately moves to ruck up his shirt and peel it off. Edward catches his wrists.

“This stays on,” he says, no trace of humor in his voice. Oswald nods.

“Absolutely, whatever you’d like.” The virus howls with indignant rage, and he digs his fingers into Edward’s soft thighs so hard he’s sure they’ll bruise.

 _He is yours. All of him. He can’t keep parts of himself from you. I want it all, I want him, I want_ everything.

Ed shuffles forward into his lap and takes hold of Oswald’s cock, pressing it between his cheeks and sinking down. Being back inside of him quiets the need for possession, but the sight of the undershirt still bothers him and makes him doubt.

_He’s hiding something. He’s hiding from you. What could be that important, what could he possibly want to hide from you that you wouldn’t be able to accept? You know what it is. He’s fucking someone else._

Oswald digs his fingers into Edward’s hips as he starts to ride him, rolling them slowly against Oswald. Edward scarcely pauses after taking Oswald inside of him before he’s bouncing on his cock. Oswald bites back the jealousy rising like acid in his throat.

_He’s screwing some other blonde little whore. Or maybe he’s taking someone else’s cock. Didn’t he take it so well just now? Didn’t he take it so quickly last night? You didn’t even have to get him ready, get him wet, stretch him out..._

“You don’t need a minute?” Oswald asks, jealousy getting the best of him.

“I’m good, _ah_ , feels good,” Edward says, oblivious to Oswald’s growing temper.

“I didn’t even have to finger you last night,” Oswald pries. Edward whimpers and kisses him.

“This virus gives us all kinds of advantages,” Edward says, smiling widely at him. “It’s— _mmm_ — fascinating. Like with the gag reflex. You can’t hurt me, unless you really try to…” Oswald flips them so Edward is lying on the couch, circling a hand around his throat.

_Or maybe he’s just good at sucking cock. How many other people has he been with, how many people have had this before you? Have had a piece of him before you?_

His hand tightens, and Edward’s eyes widen.

“Oswald, I don’t think I’m comfortable—”

“Have you been with any other men?” Oswald asks, running a thumb over his Adam’s apple.

“What? _No_. Oswald, it’s only you. You’re the only one—”

“Apart from Kristen and Isabella,” he says, tightening his grip. Edward doesn’t move to fight him. “Tell me you didn’t love them.”

“What? Oswald—” He squeezes, cutting Edward off.

“Tell me you didn’t love them!” Oswald demands, taking his hand away so Edward can speak.

“Oswald,” his voice is small, rasping. Part of him recoils at having done this to him, but another larger, darker part is not yet satisfied.

“Tell me!” Oswald begs.

“A part of me is always going to love them, but they’re gone,” Edward says. “I love _you_ , Oswald. I want to spend the rest of my life with _you_.”

_Kill him now and that would be true._

Edward kisses him, and it tastes like ashes in Oswald’s mouth. Part of Edward would always love them. He would never have _all_ of him. He drives his hips into Edward faster, punishing. Edward moans, nails scratching over the flesh of Oswald’s back for the first time. Maybe the last time.

“Are you mine?” Oswald asks, desperate to have all of him.

“ _Yes!_ ” Edward cries out in ecstasy, wrapping his legs around Oswald’s waist. “Yours, Oswald, I’m _yours_.”

_Lies._

Edward sobs when he comes, his neglected cock rubbing between their stomachs. Oswald finishes inside of him again, marking Edward deep, where no one else has ever been. Where no one else will ever be. Edward is panting beneath him, chest heaving with the exertion of their lovemaking. Oswald wraps both hands around his throat and kisses him. Edward’s eyes flutter shut, and he hums happily.

He squeezes, lightly at first, then harder. Edward’s eyes snap open.

“ _Oswald_ —” he wheezes, wrapping his hands around Oswald’s wrists and trying to pry them off. He can’t. “ _Please_.”

Edward twists under him in a way he isn’t expecting, one foot coming up onto Oswald’s hip. He bears down harder and Edward moves again, his other knee coming between them and dislodging Oswald from inside of him. He kicks, launching Oswald over the side of the couch. Edward doesn't waste a moment before he’s running. Oswald recovers quickly from the blow, and he takes off after Edward the second he gets his feet under him. The only way out is for Edward to run by him, and he manages to snag the hem of his undershirt. Edward twists out of it, _expertly_ , and makes a break for the kitchen. Oswald follows, hot on his heels, tackling Edward to the ground when he nearly takes hold of a kitchen knife.

Edward stops moving, stops fighting, the second he hits the ground. He curls into a fetal position, protecting his head and neck and then waiting. That’s when Oswald finally notices them.

A mosaic of scars litter Edward’s back, all different shapes, sizes, and colors. He can easily identify the cigarette burns, but the rest he isn’t sure about. If they were any thicker or raised, he might even attribute them to a whip. His anger blows out like a candle flame.

This is what Edward had been hiding from him. That was all. And this thing inside of him that the virus had let loose had _twisted_ it into something more. He had nearly killed Edward over this, he realizes, shocked at his own actions.

“Ed—,” he gasps, touching his back. Edward flinches. Oswald draws away. “Ed— you have to help me. This virus— it’s not the same for me as it is for you. I need an antidote, I need… something!” Edward slowly uncurls.

“What did it show you?” Edward asks, sitting with his back to the counter, knees drawn up.

“That I’m— I have to have you all to myself, all of you. I can’t even think about anyone else having a piece of you, it’s—” he growls, unaware he could even make such an animalistic noise until now. Edward tenses, ready for another fight. “Edward, I’m not safe like this. Not for you. I’d rather kill you than— than—”

“Than let anyone else have me,” Edward finishes for him. “Okay. Alright. Are you going to let me leave?”

“ _No!_ ” he snaps. _He’s going to find someone else, let them bend him over and_ —

“Not alone,” Oswald says, bargaining with his inner demons. If he’s with Edward, he can watch him and make sure no one else touches him. They quiet.

“That’s fine,” Edward says, “Let’s get dressed.” Edward stands slowly, watching him. Oswald rises in time with him, nods for Edward to go first. He wants to follow him, keep Edward in his sight. It also allows him to take further note of Edward’s scars. They’re only on his back, so whomever had done this had been careful, in that regard.

“Was it your father?” Oswald demands, blood beginning to boil anew at the idea of someone touching Edward and _hurting him_ — He stops himself. It only takes one look at the bruises around Edward’s neck to know he isn’t in a position to talk right now.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m very upset right now,” Edward says, voice carefully controlled as he scoops the undershirt Oswald had torn off of him from the ground. Of course he’s upset, Oswald berates himself, he’d just been attacked. He would comfort Edward, if only he wasn’t the one who’d perpetrated it. Why on earth would Edward want to discuss past hurts on top of this?

“Alright,” Oswald says, forcing his boiling rage to a simmer. He can deal with digging about Edward’s father later, first he needs to deal with himself.

“The GCPD is working on a cure. I could easily make my own given a lab and the proper resources, but stealing from them is more efficient and I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to resist the violent impulses the virus is trying to present to you, given that you’re already prone to violent impulses.” Edward dresses quickly, foregoing the tie and leaving the top button of his shirt undone. There’s no way he can hide what Oswald has done to him, both the hickies and the strangulation marks. Buttoning it all the way up would most likely be uncomfortable on his neck.

Oswald vividly recalls having Edward strip down and slip into his father’s robe so as not to aggravate the similar injury Butch Gilzean had given him. He’d made Edward his mother’s tea, that night. Now Edward refuses to settle; he’s been in motion since the moment Oswald had allowed him to stand and leave the kitchen. Antsy. Oswald hopes Edward won’t still be afraid of him once he’s cured, that he understands Oswald never would have laid a finger on him if it weren’t for the multitude of voices making terrible demands, coaching him from the darkest recesses of his mind. Finished dressing, he motions for Edward to lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think Oswald is scary and impulsive regularly? The virus cranks those tendencies up a hundredfold, and also amplifies his jealous and covetous nature, which I consider one of his darkest personality traits and capable of leading to the most harm (what else was the Isabella arc meant to show us?). "What Oswald Cobblepot wants, Oswald Cobblepot gets." Oswald does not take even the slightest perception of rejection well, and I draw heavy influence from the Penguin: Pain and Prejudice version where he literally stabs and kills his love interest because he /thinks/ she /might/ be about to /possibly/ say something bad about him. Not cool, dude. Not cool at all. Will the boys get to the antivirus in time to prevent Oswald from becoming the darkest, most unsympathetic version of himself? Will Edward remain under the virus' subverting influence as well? Stay tuned to find out.
> 
> I'm also trying to parallel a lot of what the show gave us with Mario and Lee's dynamic. In this situation, Mario obviously equates to Oswald. I've already shown Edward behaving similarly to Lee in past chapter, his darkest desire being that he still wants to be with someone who hurt him and killed his lover, in this chapter he also follows in her footsteps by infecting his love interest! Yippee! There will be a more direct discussion of this parallel in the next chapter, but right now now the story is just paralleling it without commentary.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts! This fic is super dark for me (I've literally never even approached something this dark before) and I hope it hasn't turned any regulars off. I know you're usually here for the fluff, which is pretty much the only thing I've ever done apart from mild angst. Odd, since most nygmobblepot fic is... pretty sadistic. I guess it was only a matter of time before I dipped my toe in, given the nature of the show and the virus, but it's really not my cup of tea so I'd like to assure you that this is as bad as it gets.
> 
> As always, I'm a slut for comments. V A L I D A T E M E.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The virus just enables you to do things you normally would never forgive yourself for,” Edward concludes.  
> “Does that mean that in your right mind, you would never forgive yourself for loving me?” Oswald asks.
> 
> Edward and Oswald race to cure Oswald before he does something he might regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! The only warning I have is for the usage of needles, discussion of violence, and discussion of consent issues. This chapter is also safe for work.

Oswald grabs the keys to his car on the way out. They get in, Oswald waiting for Edward to be seated and buckled with the door closed before following suit.

“So, what’s the plan?” Oswald asks.

“You’re going to go inside and say you’re infected, and politely ask for the cure,” Edward says.

“That’s it?” Oswald says. “You said we were stealing it.”

“Stealing by my definition, since I didn’t create it,” Edward amends. “I’ll wait in the car.”

“No!” Oswald snaps. He takes a deep breath. “You have to come in with me.”

“I’ll be arrested on the spot!” Edward protests. “You’re innocent in the eyes of the law, and they want to cure the infected.”

“Edward, I am not letting you out of my sight!” Oswald shouts, slamming his fist into the steering wheel. It bends. Edward freezes and crams himself against the door.

“You need to calm down,” Edward soothes. “This is the virus, you know I love you. I’m not going anywhere. Please, Oswald. For me?”

_Slut, cocksucker, whore. He’s just going to leave you and find someone who won’t hurt him. You really think he forgives you? Look at him, he’s terrified of you. He’s just playing along until you leave him alone._

“Shut up,” Oswald hisses. Edward shrinks away. “No— not you, _them_. They called you—” he stops himself, reaching a hand out to touch Edward’s knee across the seat and assure both Edward and himself. Edward jerks it away.

“What are they saying?” Edward asks, surprisingly understanding, despite clearly not wanting to be touched.

“That you’re scared and just playing along until I leave you alone, so that you can leave me,” Oswald says, tightening his grip on the wheel. They’re nearing the city already, and he needs to focus.

“They’re half right,” Edward admits. “That’s how they trick you. I am very frightened of you right now. I don’t know what you’re going to do— I have a few guesses— but I am going to stick around until you decide. I’m not leaving you.” Oswald breathes in through his nose. Clears his head. The virus is clouding the truth. That’s what it does.

“Come inside with me and we can bluff our way through it. Say that we want just a sample of the cure, and so long as we get it, no one get hurt. They’re extremely incompetent. Leslie Thompkins walked right in,” Oswald says.

“They like Leslie, they _hate_ me,” Edward counters.

“But they also know you, and they know you wouldn’t go there unless you had a backup plan. They’ll be too worried about an orphanage blowing up to shoot you. I say you hold something, anything, and tell them it’s a dead man’s switch. They know by now that you’re good for it,” Oswald says.

“I really can’t just wait in the car?” Edward insists. Oswald winces, tamping down on the chorus of protests and suggestions he kill Edward right now for being so insubordinate.

“That’s not happening,” Oswald says. “Should we wear sunglasses until we get in? I’m still the missing mayor, they’re not going to shoot me.”

“We could pretend you’re my hostage,” Edward suggests, “I have a history of violence against mayors.”

“You know, I think that’s our best bet, as much as I loathe playing hostage,” Oswald says, smiling at the beauty of a plan coming together. “Everyone thinks you hate me, want to kill me, blah blah blah. It’s a great cover.”

“You’re going to need sunglasses, then. Jim and Harvey already know I’m infected and will have alerted everyone. They might be happy to hand it over thinking it’s for me.”

“Or they’ll withhold it out of spite,” Oswald says.

“No, Foxy wouldn’t let that happen. Too noble. He’d get it for me himself.” Oswald stiffens. Edward realizes his mistake too late.

“Who?” Oswald asks, voice tight. The voices clamor for blood. Edward had mentioned someone named ‘Foxy’ being his second favourite man while under the influence of Ivy’s perfume just yesterday.

“He took my old job at the GCPD. You’ve met him, Lucius Fox.” Oswald has met him. He’s handsome, smart… _good_. A penchant for stating the obvious the last time Oswald had met him, in his opinion, but that was neither here nor there.

“So, you’re close?” Oswald says, straining with the effort not to overreact again.

“He— I— I don’t want to lie to you, Oswald. It’s complicated. After you died, I went searching for someone to guide me. I killed six men and women before Lucius Fox stepped up to stop me and fill the role of enemy, instead. The whole exercise was somewhat in vain, though. It just made me realize the entire scheme was a façade… so I could hold on to you a little longer. It was never about Fox, or any of the others. It was about you.”

“I didn’t know you were having revelations of that nature while I was dead. Wasn’t the virus your rude awakening,” Oswald says, suspicion growing. Was Edward attempting to deflect by flattering him?

“That wasn’t the only… altered state of consciousness I experienced,” Edward says, carefully choosing his words.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Oswald snaps. He has no patience for Edward’s word games right now. “Spit it out!”

“I was taking stimulants in the aftermath of your death, in order to keep up with the work that piled up,” Edward confesses.

“You were taking drugs?” Oswald says, in clear disbelief. The images of Edward smoking, popping pills or shooting up are all equally unbelievable. In fact, the only pills Oswald has ever seen him take were the daily vitamins he used to keep on his nightstand back at the apartment. Edward had taken then religiously.

“Yes, it was similar to speed, but there were side effects from the increased potency.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I don’t know if everyone experiences these particular side effects, but I did.”

“Which were?” Oswald pries. What Edward was currently saying had nothing to do with their earlier subject of conversation, and Oswald was only growing more paranoid as the explanation was delayed. What was Edward’s relationship with this Fox character?

“I had vivid hallucinations of you. At first, they were unwelcome, but before long I found myself taking the pills just so I could see you.” Oswald is hit with a number of revelations all at once. One stands out among the rest.

“You missed me while I was gone.” Not an accusation, but a fact.

“I did,” Edward says.

“Then why were you so angry when you found out I was alive?” Oswald asks. Edward’s behavior simply didn’t line up. He had been furious, he had been focused on killing Oswald.

“I… had to make sense of the fact that I missed you. I needed to integrate that knowledge into the person I was becoming.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I missed you because you were a part of me. But by the time you returned I was no longer Edward Nygma, not anymore. Once I let him go, I didn’t have to miss anyone. I was able to let _you_ go. I became someone was brand new. Killing you, the longing I felt afterwards… it was the longing of a dead man. You weren’t a part of the person had become, your death had just been the catalyst for it. Which is why when you came back…” Edward trails off, pressing his fingers into his eyes. “I needed you to stay dead. I was angry because as long as you lived, you were a threat to the very foundation of my identity. Only you could make me weak again, only you could bring me low with things like _love_ and _longing_. I don’t fear those things anymore, but at the time… I was terrified of you, Oswald. And the least of my worries were what you could do to me in a physical sense.”

“How does Fox fit into this?” Oswald is still stuck on that point, the virus nagging at him about infidelity. He’s frustrated with himself, but also completely unable to give up on the fixation.

“He was a means to an end. He helped me sort Edward Nygma from the Riddler and move forward after I lost you. Just a part of my scheme, really, but he turned out to be invaluable.”

“You spared his life,” Oswald says. He’d killed the others, what made Fox so special? His fingers leave dents in the wheel.

“He answered my riddle. Fair’s fair,” Edward says. It was just because of an arbitrary rule. Fine. Oswald can handle that. He breathes.

“I promise I’m not normally _this_ jealous,” Oswald says. He didn’t even want anyone else to _look_ at Edward, right now. It’s not good. He needs this cure.

“I know,” Edward assures him. “The virus only amplifies what's already there, and you’re already pretty bad with the whole ‘sharing’ thing.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Oswald asks.

“Not as much as it should. The way I look at it… if someone is jealous, it means that they value whatever it is they perceive themselves to be losing. Enough that it bothers them. In a way… it’s reassuring to me that you’re jealous, because it means you at least want me in some way. I could do without the strangulation, though,” Edward says, casting a glance at Oswald to make sure he’s not pushing things.

“Yeah, that’s a bit too far,” Oswald says, massively understating the situation so that the humor falls in line with Edward’s quip. On a more serious note… “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Edward. I’d say I didn’t know what came over me, but we both do.” Edward nods and settles back into his seat more normally. That’s a good sign.

“Ed?” Edward turns to look at him. “Don’t call him ‘Foxy’ in front of me unless you want me to tear his throat out with my teeth.”

“Noted,” Edward says. “I do prefer him alive, so that won’t be necessary. Did you want to call Ivy and the gang, let them know what the plan is?”

“Good idea,” Oswald says, taking his phone out.

“They could help us, you know,” Edward suggests. Oswald remembers that Kristen had red hair, remembers the way Edward had been able to bond with Victor less than a minute after meeting him.

“Maybe Bridgit,” Oswald says, grinding his teeth. He dials Ivy’s number.

“Hello?”

“Ivy, Ed and I are headed to the GCPD right now. I’ll fill you in on the details later, but if something goes south, I want Bridgit waiting with backup outside,” Oswald says.

“What about Victor and I?” she asks.

“Hold down the fort, this shouldn’t take too long,” Oswald says.

“Bye, Pengy.”

“I’ll see you later, Ivy.” He snaps it shut.

“We could try to be low-key and single out Fox?” Edward suggests.

“You’re incapable of low-key lately, and every time I step into the GCPD it’s a big to-do, no way.” Edward sighs. “What?”

“Nothing, I just— I don’t want anything to go wrong. If I lost you…” Edward’s eyes turn black, then brown.

“I know,” Oswald says. The rest of the ride there is silent, but it isn’t much farther. They park in front, in the fire lane. No one is going to tow them. Not in time, anyways.

“Time to make our entrance,” Edward says, stepping out of the car. Oswald follows him, putting on a pair of dark sunglasses. “You can just walk in front of me, that should be fine.” Oswald finds it in himself to do that, casting worried glances back at Edward every so often.

“Don’t forget your limp,” Edward reminds him, and Oswald immediately affects one. He almost forgot he had one. The virus screams in protest with every step he takes towards the cure, reminding him that he won’t be as strong, trying to convince him that Edward will surely leave him. He powers on.

“Hello, everyone!” Edward calls as they step through the entrance. “It’s been a while. Hey Jerry, I heard your kid won the science fair, isn’t that something?” He’s met with silence.

“Anywho, is Mr. Fox around? I’d really like to speak with him.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t open fire on you right now,” Bullock calls, handgun pointed at him from the balcony.

“Because Oswald here is fit to burst with explosives, and I’m carrying the dead-man’s switch. Mr. Fox, if you’d please?”

“Over here, Ed,” Lucius calls. Edward smiles widely at him. Oswald’s blood simmers.

“Mr. Fox, Oswald and I would like to speak with you in the lab,” Edward says, as if this is a polite conversation between the two of them, not one with the entire GCPD listening in.

“Follow me,” he says, stoic. They follow.

“This room is currently dedicated to manufacturing the cure,” Lucius says, leading them by it. “I’ll speak to you in—”

“Go inside,” Edward says, “Take a syringe.” Lucius peers more closely at him.

“Harvey said you’re infected,” Lucius says, “But Oswald has been awfully quiet. Not keen on drawing attention to yourself, dark sunglasses… You’re both infected. Why am I only grabbing one?”

“Because Edward has been handling it far better than I,” Oswald finally interjects. “Now I suggest you fetch me a cure before I seriously harm you.” Lucius’ eyes widen, and he ducks through the door. A moment later he emerges with the syringe. Edward holds his hand out for it.

“No,” Lucius says. “We need to do it now.”

“Oswald and I are leaving now,” Edward says, wiggling his fingers.

“Ed, did Penguin do that to your neck?” Oswald looks at the floor in shame and clenches his fists with the desire to lay Lucius out with a punch. Edward doesn’t say anything, but it’s an answer.

“I can’t let you leave with him, Ed. We’re doing this now.”

“I’m fine,” Edward lies. Oswald had seen the way he shook in the car; he’s terrified of Oswald right now, and he certainly isn’t fine.

“The virus doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do already,” Lucius says, casting a wary look at Oswald.

“So, I suppose Mario Calvi secretly wanted to kill Leslie?” Edward asks him. Oswald remembers Leslie, seemed like the woman could never catch a break. “That’s absurd. You don’t know what it can make people do.”

“You’re right, I don’t know. That’s the problem. I cannot, in good conscience, let you leave with him when he might kill you. We can do it in my lab, lock the door. It doesn't take long.”

“You realize I can just take it from you,” Oswald says, leveling his gaze with Lucius.

“Now, if there’s one thing I know about the virus, it’s that it doesn’t want to be cured. You won’t.” Every cell is Oswald is ringing out to keep away from the syringe... he’s not wrong.

“I could,” Edward says, closing his hand into fists.

“And then you’d have to get out of here without my assistance,” Lucius points out.

“ _Fine_ ,” Edward agrees, petulant. “We’ll do it here.” Lucius opens the door and walks through, then Oswald. Edward closes and locks the door behind them, and puts down the switch. Lucius watches him but betrays no surprise.

“You knew it was a bluff,” Oswald says. Lucius nods.

“Edward also has hickies on his neck, once you get past the handprints. I knew you two were in it together the second I saw them,” he says. “Please lie back on the table, you’re going to be in an unconscious state for a few moments after it’s administered.”

“You didn’t betray us,” Oswald says, complying.

“If I did, you both would have been shot dead. I don’t want that, I want you to get help,” he taps the bubbles out of the needle.

“Ed?” Oswald calls. He’s been circling the room, taking note of the changes and similarities in his old haunt.

“Yes?” Edward says, coming closer to wait by his side.

“You’re going to need to either hold me down, distract me, or both, because it’s taking everything I have not to knock that needle out of his hands.” Edward immediately climbs on top of the table and straddles him. Oswald can’t see Lucius’ expression, because Edward is kissing him, but he does gets a smug thrill from having Edward immediately fulfill his request with _enthusiasm_ and without any regard for their audience’s comfort. There’s a pinch in his neck, but by the time he realizes what that means Lucius has already depressed the syringe. Oswald feels himself fading, and then everything is distant, now black.

When he comes to, Edward is holding his hand and Lucius is assuring someone through the door that he’s alright, don’t shoot.

“Oswald?” Edward calls, squeezing his hand. He squeezes back. “Lucius is calming things down, Bridgit is waiting outside.”

“Ed,” Lucius says, taking hold of his arm. Oswald watches, and to his surprise, he doesn’t want to kill him. He’s not _thrilled_ that Lucius is touching Edward, but the berserker rage that might have been there earlier has calmed to his usual level of jealousy. Though still probably above the average individual’s, he finally relaxes for the first time in the last hour. No longer does he feels the need to monitor Edward’s every move, and he finally take his eyes off of him.

Lucius presses another syringe into his hand. Oswald sits up.

“Promise me you’ll think about it,” Lucius insists. Oswald can see that he genuinely cares about Edward. It leaves him feeling wildly inadequate.

“I—” Edward searches his face and then looks down at his hand. He sighs. “I promise.”

“You guys need to get going,” Lucius says. “I’ll walk you out.” Edward picks up his switch.

“Are you good to go, Oswald?” Edward asks, slipping the syringe into his jacket pocket.

“I should be alright.” He swings his legs over the side and stands, nearly falling over with the pain in his crippled leg. He curses, and Edward rushes over and holds his elbows, keeping him from sinking to the floor.

“I did not miss that,” he hisses, easing back onto the table. Edward is frowning, but he kisses Oswald’s forehead and combs a hand through his hair in comfort.

“Can you make it to the car? We didn’t bring your cane…”

“I’ll make it,” Oswald says, pushing himself off the table again. This time, he’s ready for the impact, and he quickly adopts his usual gait again.

“Thank you,” Edward tells Lucius. He nods and opens the door for them.

“Take care,” he says, glancing at Oswald but clearly intending his words for Edward. Oswald is halfway down the hall when he realizes that Lucius has taken hold of Edward’s arm again, urgently whispering to him. Edward’s eyes are downcast. Lucius lets him go when Edward nods, saying something quickly to Lucius that makes him look at Oswald with laser-like focus. Edward catches up to Oswald and takes hold of his arm, steering him towards the exit, his other hand on the phony switch. The officers inside part like a wave, and no one draws their weapon. Oswald is certainly going to ask about Edward’s exchange with Lucius later.

Bridgit is waiting in Fries’ van, and Oswald waves as they pile into their car, signaling an all-clear. Edward drives this time, giving Oswald’s leg a break. Bridgit follows behind them in the van.

“So,” Oswald says, fiddling with his seat belt. “What did Mr. Fox have to say to you?” Edward flushes.

“He, um— he told me not to let you hurt me, even if it feels like I— like I deserve it,” Edward says, swallowing. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, fixed on the road.

“Did you feel that way the first time we had sex?” Oswald asks, recalling the encounter with building dread.

“Maybe a little,” Edward admits. Oswald feels sick. He puts his head in his hands. Edward had been punishing himself, and Oswald had been a part of that. Unwitting or not, it’s awful. That’s not what he wants for them. He should have realized what Edward was doing, should have insisted, but the virus—

“What I did to you…” Oswald starts, “that’s not who I am.”

“No, it is who you are,” Edward says, tapping his fingers on the mangled steering wheel.

“Ed… I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be,” Edward interrupts. “I like who you are. No one has ever— no one has ever wanted me so much. Been willing to kill to have me.”

“That isn’t a good thing. I nearly killed you!” Oswald exclaims.

“But you didn’t, even with the virus,” Edward says, like that somehow makes it better.

“I was going to,” Oswald insists, “I was dead set on it.”

“Because you didn’t want anyone else to have me?” Edward asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer. They’d been over this already.

“Yes,” Oswald says, unable to deny the extent of his selfishness now that Edward has witnessed it firsthand. This was the same man who had proclaimed that love was about sacrifice, about putting someone else’s happiness above one’s own. There was no way he could possibly believe Oswald loved him after what he’d done.

“Then you have nothing to worry about, I only want you,” Edward replies, matter-of-fact. That wasn’t the point, though.

“Ed—”

“I’ve made my decision,” he interrupts again. “The virus twisted you into doing something you would never have done in your right mind. Remember how Mario Falcone nearly did the same thing to Leslie?”

“Yes, but that’s not—”

“It _is_ the same, Oswald! He didn’t love her any less, the virus just enables you to do things you normally would never forgive yourself for,” Edward concludes.

“Does that mean that in your right mind, you would never forgive yourself for loving me?” Oswald asks, afraid of the answer. Afraid because he knows that if it’s true, the right thing to do is get Edward to use the cure. Edward doesn’t answer right away, but Oswald can tell he’s thinking. He waits.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Edward eventually says. “I— I hated myself for loving you. That’s why the virus has been a blessing for me, but a curse for you. You already admitted everything to yourself, you know who you are. I couldn’t, I didn’t. The deepest things I had buried were realizations and emotions, things like love and guilt… not actions I wanted to take.”

“I don’t want to kill you!” Oswald corrects, resenting the implication.

“No, but you want me all to yourself, and the virus showed you a way to make that happen and lowered your inhibitions against carrying it out,” Edward says, making it sound so rational and logical that Oswald had nearly strangled him to death. Oswald doesn’t like this feeling any more than he liked bristling at every person who so much as glanced at Edward wrong.

“I was going to kill you,” Oswald says. “I meant that, when the Court had us locked up. I fully intended to. And then… I had the idea to freeze you,” Oswald says. Now Edward knows the method he had ultimately decided on in order to keep Edward all to himself, forever. Now Edward knows every horrible idea he’s ever entertained about him. Of course, freezing Edward had been the plan _before_ he successfully passed being subjected to Ivy’s perfume, but that was no excuse. Even the perfume had been a manipulation, and Edward had let it slide without a second thought. How deep did his guilt go? What horrors would he be willing to suffer by Oswald’s hand to make up for it?

“What?” Edward asks, thrown by what he probably perceives as a derailment of the conversation.

“I was going to have Victor put you in a cryogenic stasis so you would always be mine,” Oswald says. There. He has confirmed without a doubt that he _was_ going to act on his desire to have Edward in any way he could… so that no one else could. Edward _must_ have something to say to that.

“I’d prefer that to being dead,” Edward ventures, after a few moments of awkward silence wherein he thinks this new information over. That’s it? That’s all he has to say on the subject of Oswald’s plan to keep him in an icy prison... _forever_? Oswald is certain now that the virus is altering Edward’s thoughts and behaviours. He wants to punch himself for not noticing until it was almost too late.

“I also preferred the idea to you being dead,” Oswald says, veering away from the subject now that he knows it has barely caused Edward any doubt. “I don’t think I ever really wanted you dead.” He doesn’t know if he could handle the emotional fallout of seeing another person he loves die. But as far as the actual killing goes...

“I don’t think I would have been able to go through with it… or maybe I would have. But with the virus…it’s dangerous, Ed,” Oswald finishes, ready to pressure him to take the cure himself. They’re pulling into the drive of the manor now. Edward can lie down, allow Oswald to press it into his neck, and it will be over, just like that.

“I need it,” Edward says, no hesitation. That’s what really worries Oswald. He’d promised Lucius to at least think it over, but it was like the virus itself wouldn’t allow him to.

“You don’t,” Oswald insists. At this point, Edward was treating the virus as a crutch he no longer needed. “It’s already helped you accept the truth. What if it twists that, too? The way it twisted my love for you?” Edward parks the car near the front door of the manor and pulls the key out, playing with it.

“I—”

“Ed, please. I don’t want to be in love with the virus. I know you want this… yet there is an essential problem in that as long as you are under its influence, I can never be certain that the harm this relationship may be doing you doesn’t outweigh that desire.” Edward’s behavior— now that Oswald’s thinking was no longer clouded by lust or the virus and he could properly analyze it— was truly cause for alarm. The virus had made him dangerously submissive, quick to forgive Oswald even after he’d attempted to _murder_ him. That wasn’t normal, even by their standards. Edward should, at the very _least,_ be sore with him.

“Ivy’s perfume—”

“Doesn’t tell me whether or not you’re only doing this under duress from the virus and against your better judgement,” Oswald is quick to interject. It seems like weeks ago now— though it had only been a day— that Edward confessed he had been afraid of his feelings for Oswald, and with good reason. Edward had bared his heart and soul, without any reassurance that Oswald wouldn’t take advantage of his vulnerability in that moment. He’d been right to fear exposing himself. After all, Oswald intended to freeze him almost immediately afterward if Edward was lying or going to prove a liability. More recent events had only further shown that Edward had been right to be afraid of the hold Oswald has over him. Oswald had nearly killed him today _,_ and yet nothing had changed. That wasn’t to say that Edward didn’t hold equal power over Oswald, but the loop they seemed to be trapped in had dictated that it had been Oswald’s turn to attempt murder, and Edward hadn’t even been himself. At least Oswald was in his right mind when their situations were reversed. At least Oswald had the freedom to be angry with him. He’s not sure that Edward does, not with the way the virus is affecting him.

Oswald becomes increasingly aware of the existing power imbalance the more he thinks on it. As a matter of fact, it was entirely possible that the influence of the virus meant Edward _couldn’t_ react in the manner he normally would have, a manner in the interest of self-preservation. No, his virus was all about _love_ , and _being with Oswald_. And, apparently, ignoring the basic instinct to protect himself. It was frightening to think that Edward had been so obviously lacking a backbone this entire time. That he could potentially have— have _taken advantage_.

Perhaps he already had. It was nauseating to even consider. Edward needed to be cured if Oswald was ever to have any peace of mind. It was unfair to Edward, unfair to trap him in his mind… even if it was to Oswald’s benefit. Edward needed to have full freedom in his decisions, and the virus was inhibiting that. Oswald knows how it works now. He doesn’t want that kind of life for Edward. A life where wants were streamlined to base desires, where there was no room for mistakes or imperfection. They were supposed to be in this together, learning how to love together. Instead the virus had rendered Edward a doormat for Oswald to trample all over while he figured out how to make his first romantic relationship work. It was already a disaster. He needed Edward’s real input, not his compliance.

“I— Oswald, I can’t.” Edward stutters, running his thumb over the teeth of the key. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Let’s go inside, alright?” Oswald says, opening the car door. Bridgit has already gone in, and he waits for Edward so they can walk together. Ivy is waiting in the foyer.

“I was so worried, what happened?” Ivy asks, standing and rushing over to Oswald.

“It’s a long story,” he says. “Ed and I will be upstairs.” She nods uncertainly and allows Oswald to walk by her. Edward passes her like a ghost. Oswald makes the long climb and ushers Edward into his bedroom, where they’ll have at least some degree of privacy. Oswald kicks off his shoes and climbs into the bed, settling against the headboard. He pats the spot next to him, and Edward leaves his shoes behind to sit beside him.

“Oswald, I know you think it’s for the best, but I can’t do _this_ ,” he says, gesturing between them, “without the help of the virus.”

“You can, Ed,” Oswald says, taking hold of his hand. The virus has been like a pair of training wheels, and Edward can’t rely on it forever. Oswald just has to give him a push. He recalls the night of the election, when he had insisted that he needed the bribe money, even as Edward assured him that he would win without it. That the people loved him. Cheating had been his own safety net, but he hadn’t needed to anymore, and Edward had been the first to show him the satisfaction of doing things the right way. Now it’s his turn.

“I believe in you, Edward,” Oswald says, echoing Edward’s own words to him that night. _Even when you don’t believe in yourself_.

“I believe in fate,” he declares, answering a question that had been asked to so long ago it feels like another lifetime. Edward’s eyes water, and he swallows.

He reaches into his pocket, and hands Oswald the syringe. Well... that was easy.

“Do it.”

Oswald taps the tube and depresses the plunger so a single drop spills out. He brings it to the side of Edward’s neck, wincing at the look of the bruises, and sinks it in. Edward holds still, requiring neither a distraction nor to be held down as Oswald administers the cure. Oswald admires his control. Edward was in perfect harmony with the virus, if that was possible. He depresses the syringe.

Edward’s eyelashes flutter, and Oswald removes the needle, placing it on the nightstand. When he turns back around Edward’s eyes have rolled back and he’s slouched against the headboard. Oswald half lifts and half pulls him down to lay more comfortably on the bed, taking care with his head by holding the nape of his neck as he moves him. He has no idea how long this is going to take. He’d been too worked up about Edward being alone with ‘Foxy’ before he was unconscious to check the time. He waits. After about ten minutes, Edward stirs.

“Oswald?” he calls. Oswald leans over him, brushing his hair back from his face.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I bled out and then someone replaced all of the liquids in my circulatory system with… _sludge_ ,” Edward says, and then, “Come here.”

“I’m right here,” Oswald says, face hovering over Edward’s as they both lay on the bed. Edward wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down.

“Here,” he says, locking his lips with Oswald’s. Oswald sinks to his elbows, half laying on top of Edward as they kiss. Oswald pulls away, a small line of saliva connecting their lips and then breaking.

“So… you still want to do this?” Oswald says, searching his face. Edward groans.

“Isn’t that obvious? I think I just made that pretty obvious.”

“Okay, and what about that Riddler business you were trying to rope me into?” Oswald says, a little miffed at being sassed so soon.

“Oh, I can do that solo. Actually, I would prefer it that way. I think that what you’re doing right now is exactly what you’re meant to be doing. The virus was… really pushing me to latch on to you in _every_ way. You don’t have to start cavorting around in a bright purple suit with me, I promise,” Edward assures him, trying to pull Oswald more comfortably on top of him.

“Oh, thank heavens,” Oswald says. It seems that their first real ‘couple’ fight was mostly a manufactured one. Good. That’s done with, then.

“Don’t make it sound so bad,” Edward huffs. “I’m doing what I’m meant to be doing.”

“So, I’m the King of Gotham, and you’re… what? Wouldn’t you rather be at my side?” There was no name for what Edward was doing. Most criminals preferred to get away with their crimes, but Edward almost couldn’t seem to stop himself from taking credit for them. Hell, he _wanted_ the credit. Oswald couldn’t continue to associate with him above board, it would implicate him.

“Who says I can’t still do both? It will definitely help draw the GCPD away from your dealings, at any rate.” Oswald pauses.

“That’s brilliant,” he settles on, pecking Edward on the lips. If he was in cahoots with Edward, he could be the perfect distraction when Oswald needed him. He’s wary of putting Edward at risk, but they’ve both chosen to live dangerous lives. The only place Edward could possibly go that Oswald can’t retrieve him from is the clutches of death itself, and he doubts it will come to that. Arkham certainly isn’t a concern.

“I’m brilliant,” Edward corrects, pulling him down for a longer kiss. When Edward breaks it, his brow is furrowed. “The virus was... certainly clouding the most logical course of action by insisting I _always_ be by your side. I might want that, deep down, but it would be neither a healthy practice nor a logistically feasible one.”

“I think I love you even more,” Oswald says, and he’s not sure how it’s possible but he _feels_ it.

“I love you,” Edward says. “The virus helped me accept that, and I’m grateful… but it was a temporary solution.” Oswald heart soars. It feels like Edward is saying he loves him for the first time, and in a way, he is.

“Now,” Edward says, leaning up to bite at his bottom lip. “I’m still a little peeved that you tried to strangle me to death.” Oswald had been ready for this.

“Edward, I will do anything you ask of me to make up for that, I swear,” he vows, taking one of Edward’s hands in his own. Edward tips his head back, exposing the long, pale column of his throat, its perfect expanse interrupted by a dark ring of bruises.

“Kiss it better?” Edward requests, smiling. He quirks one brow. Oswald grins and does as Edward asks of him, and so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been waiting until the end to comment, please do! Anything from other chapters, concerning the overall scope of the story, just this chapter, or even a specific line, etc. I would really appreciate anything you have to tell me. I also accept keyboard smashes and these things: <3


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